Page 4 of Evil Eyed
“But you hadn’t even graduated yet,” Vivi insisted. “They didn’t come back to see you receive your diploma, or celebrate when you got into the institute. They never visited you, sent you money, called. Nothing. It was like you didn’t exist.”
Old unhappy memories flickered through my mind. Coming home from school excited about a blue ribbon I’d won in the local art show, barging into our trailer. The shocked look on Mom’s face as she jerked up from her chair at the table. A brief look of abject terror, as if she didn’t recognize me at first, then the look on her face slowly faded to resignation. Very like the look that had passed over Aidan’s face earlier.
As if even the sight of me had resigned her to an unhappy fate.
Jonathan had taken so many memories from me during our marriage when he fed on me. Why couldn’t he have taken that one? I knew why, though it only made me angry all over again.
He liked my misery too much to take thebadmemories.
Warwick mused, shaking his head. “Perhaps some kind of glamor was shielding you until you came of age. If so, it was gone when you came to Kansas City, or at least when I found the painting. Then the changeling hid you too well for me to feel any trace of your magic.”
“But I don’t…” My words trailed off before I could complete the sentence.
I don’t have magic.
But I did. I’d seen the proof myself. I’d painted a picture of the cave and then willed us to travel there,throughthe picture. I’d painted something that was so powerful and magical that Warwick hid it in complete darkness on the Summer Isle, afraid it would draw unwanted attention to our new home.
“If I’m…fae…” I still choked on the word. “And I’m not a changeling, then what am I? How did I live a mortal life all this time with no clues to some otherworldly existence?”
“But there were clues,” Vivi insisted. “We just didn’t understand them. We were kids. All the stories we made up, climbing hills and trees looking for the lost prince. Vanta finding you and meowing like she was so happy to see you again, even though we’d never seen her before.”
My poor, sweet black kitty who’d been trying to wake me up from the nightmare my life had become with Jonathan. He’d killed her every time she came back to warn me, torturing us both. If she was some kind of fae creature too, then hopefully I would find her again. Fae were nearly impossible to kill on the mortal plane.
Stunned, I met Warwick’s sparkling emerald eyes.:Am I immortal then? Like you?:
Outwardly, he seemed as cool and calm as always. Our internal magical bond was an entirely different story. He shimmered with emerald and golden starbursts. :Aye, it’s very possible. A boon for sure.:
A boon for him. For me, perhaps, though I couldn’t wrap my mind around what it meant to not be human. But for my treasures…
In many ways, they were caught between the mortal and immortal worlds. They were spun back out into this world for a very short time, over and over, with only one purpose—to send as many dark fae back to Faerie as possible. Maybe even to defeat Balor of the Evil Eye himself, though it was a hopeless, endless battle. Balor was a powerful High Court fae, and while my treasures had magical gifts, they still had mortal bodies. When they died, they returned to Tír na nÓg, but I wasn’t clear what they actually did in Faerie until they were sent back to the mortal plane again. Their original lands were gone, faded over time as their power waned.
Chills rippled down my spine. What if their power waned so much that… they faded too? If they just ceased to be?
No. I refused to even consider the possibility.
Jonathan had told me that the answer to defeating Balor once and for all was written in my soul. I would help them defeat Evil Eye, and somehow, we’d break the cycle once and for all.
3
“Ismell snow,” Keane said as I stepped outside the garage. He gave me a concerned look, assessing my hoodie and jeans with a worried eye. “The temperature dropped again. Doran can fly up to the house and get you a warmer coat.”
I tucked my arm around his and stepped closer to him, soaking in his body heat. “I’m fine, really. It’s not far to the house.”
Ivarr slid up on my other side, ducking around Doran’s bulk to cut him off. “You can warm her up when we get up to the house—like you did at the lake.”
My cheeks blazed. Before we’d found Doran’s prison and freed him, I’d been dragged into Lake Taneycomo by a kelpie. Soaked in frigid water, I’d been shivering and miserable without a change of clothes. But Keane had kissed me, using his gift to send pulse after pulse of molten heat through my body until even my clothes were dry.
The explosive climax was a delicious bonus.
Doran let out a low rumbling hum. “Frommo stór’svery pretty blush, this is a tale that I need to hear more about.”
Ivarr opened his mouth but before he could gleefully regale his friend with the gory details, I called over to Warwick. “Was the painting still alright in the cellar?”
“Aye, still undisturbed and as glorious as ever,” he replied.
“I’d like to study it in full light to see if I left myself any clues. Now that Jonathan’s gone, do you think it’s safe to bring it back here?”
“Possibly, though twasn’t solely the changeling that I be worried about.”
