Page 85 of By the Fae

“So, you guys fucking, or what?” he said, bringing a fingernail to his mouth and scraping it between his teeth.

“What?!” I said, blindsided by the question, and just all round, extremely confused.

“Stop playing dumb. So, when did it happen?”

“What are you? If you’re not summer fae, what are you?” I said, the questions working their way up like vomit.

“Summer fae. Fuck me, that’s . . . bless your heart. So, what went wrong? With you and the golden one. You wouldn’t be here with me tonight if something hadn’t split you apart. What did he do? Run off with someone else? The succubus I saw him lurking on South Street with this afternoon?”

“What? No, nothing,” I started to say, but stopped myself. I didn’t want to talk about Goldie. I didn’t want to talk about us, or the lack of us. And above all, I really, really didn’t want to talk to Seth. About anything.

If Goldie had been hanging about on South Street with a succubus, that was his business. Even if it did crack my heart open like an egg thrown from the fiftieth floor.

We’re not a thing. We were never a thing. He had every right to see whomever he wanted. Date people. Have sex.

Gods, was I crying in front of Seth?

“I have to go, I have to . . .” I got to my feet, placing the napkin on my dish.

“Aw, don’t be like that. Come on, sit, eat. Whatever you want, it’s on me, and then later tonight,” he stood too, leaned over the table, and placed his mouth next to my ear. Seth smelled of whisky and spiced cologne. Not citrus and salty, sun-soaked skin. “How about you open those pretty little legs for your golden lover boy once more?”

I recoiled as though he had slapped my face.

“Holly, come on! Don’t be pathetic,” he said, but my feet were already carrying me out of the restaurant. My hands searching my bag for my phone. I rang Abby as soon as I felt the warm evening air blanket my shoulders.

I’d figured it out. Seth. Who he was, or rather, what.

I just needed confirmation.

She answered on the second ring. “You okay? Say ‘seagulls’ if you need me to call the police.”

“Abby, I’m fine. Well, no, I’m literally the furthest from fine I could possibly be.” She made to interrupt, so I talked louder. “I need you to do something for me. Are you home?”

“Yes,” she said, drawing out the word. “What do you need?” I heard the kitchen cupboard door close, the squeaky one, and a spoon or something drop onto the metal of the sink.

“Can you go to our room and find the Faecyclopaedia?”

There was a soft slurping sound, tea being drunk probably. “Is this really urgent?”

“Utmost.”

She sighed. Our bedroom door opened and closed. “Okay, it’s still open to summer fae. What do you want to know?”

My heart turned itself inside out. “Go back in the book, about ten or twelve pages.”

“Mmkay.”

“Until you find the page on shadow fae.”

The line crackled a little. Abby took another sip.

“Oh, urgh, they look . . . weird,” she said.

I knew exactly whattheylooked like, could see the illustration so clearly in my mind, having memorised every image of that book. What Abby was looking at in that moment bore a sort of resemblance to a human form. If a human form were simply a collection of dark storm clouds. There were no eyes, nose, mouth. It had arms and legs, but no discernible appendages.

In short, it looked like a shadow.

“Can you read me what it says?” I asked.

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