Page 15 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
When she burst through the door, her eyes were red and swollen.
“What’s wrong?” Harper asked.
Cat’s nose wrinkled. She shook her head and tried to push past Harper. “Nothing. It will be all right.”
“Cat,” Harper said, grabbing her sister’s arm.
Cat’s lip trembled, and then it burst out of her. “I was fired. No notice, no severance. They might press charges. Money was missing from the safe, and I was the only one working last night who knew the combination. I didn’t take it, Harper! I would never steal from them.”
She began ripping off her uniform right there in the living room, throwing it piece by piece in whatever direction she was facing at the time until she was down to her bra and panties. “Burn them while I’m gone, will you?” She stomped upstairs, saying she was going to change and go look for a new job, but halfway up, she spun. “It makes no sense. Even the security cameras couldn’t help me. A power surge fried them.”
CHAPTER 12
Trows.What were they? What did Willow mean?Got him.That trows killed him? Or theytookhim? Was it possible her father was still alive?
In a matter of minutes, Bowskeep had turned inside out into a place Bristol didn’t recognize, a coat with seams and dark hidden pockets she didn’t know existed. First Freda and the sheriff—and now Willow. Was anyone in this town who they claimed to be?
You ever see a body?
Her stomach twisted again, and the cakes she had eaten bobbed in her throat. No, she hadn’t seen the body. Did that mean the sheriff was in on it? Or had he been tricked the way Willow implied? Could Bristol even believe Willow?What was Willow?
Bristol’s bike was still moving when she jumped off, letting it clatter to the ground. She ran up the front steps and slammed the front door behind her, her chest burning from her crazed ride home. Her mind was a blur of images—Willow, the room full of monsters, the man ordering her to choose. Eris called himTie-gun. What kind of name was that? Not a name from around there.His world?What was that world?
Harper rushed out of the kitchen. “What happened to your lip?”
“I—There—” Bristol’s mind still raced, one thought colliding with another. “I went to the Willoughby Inn.”
“You what?”
Bristol touched her swollen lip. The metallic taste of blood swam in her mouth. “A shingle hit me. I think. There was no real aunt there, but there were—”
“What? Who was there?”
She couldn’t say it out loud. It was impossible. But she was still too stunned to offer something more plausible. Her careful filters were shredded.
“Monsters,” she answered, and once she said it, her words poured out in a continuous stream. “A whole menagerie of monsters, ones with horns and wings and hideous faces, and some had hooves like deer, and Freda was there. She was one of them. And so was the sheriff, but they didn’t look like themselves anymore. They were creatures. Willow is one, too. She vanished into thin air right in front of me. Even the ones who looked human—there was something different about them. They were big and powerful and wore strange clothes and weapons, and one had eyes that seemed to glow when he was angry and then—”
Harper’s brows pulled down. “Bri?You okay? Have you been drinking?”
“And some others have Daddy. Willow told me. They took him.”
“You’re talking crazy, Bri.” Harper cautiously stepped closer, sniffing the air near her sister. “Who took Daddy?”
“Vicious creatures. That’s what Willow said. She saw him with them just before he disappeared. She said trows got him.”
Harper blinked. “Trows?” she repeated.
Hearing Harper say the word like it was familiar made the chaos in Bristol’s head vanish in a swift gust. “You’ve heard of them?”
“You’re sure she said trows?”
Bristol nodded. “What is it? Tell me.”
Harper eased down on the end of the coffee table. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, staring at the floor like she was trying to see something through her blurred vision. “I heard Daddy making fun of Mother just after we moved in. They were out in his studio, and I was about to go in to ask a question, but I heard them arguing—at least Mother was—saying trows were animals that couldn’t be trusted. But Daddy was laughing, telling her to relax. He told her we were safe—and then they started kissing, and it seemed like it was all a big joke. I never asked them what trows were. Even once I found out, I still thought it was only a joke.”
“You know what they are?”
“I read it in a book I got from the library last month. They’re fae. Willow and all those creatures you described?” She put her glasses back on. “I think they might be fae, too.”
