Page 28 of A Hint of Delirium

I whirled around to face my accoster and came face-to-face with Alec, Ansel’s Unseelie brother.

“What are you doing here?” I gasped and stumbled back, darting my eyes around the packed train and leaning against the closed train doors. “How did you find me?”

He shrugged nonchalantly and leaned against the rail, unconcerned by my reaction. “I have my ways. What surprises me most is why you aren’t holed up with my brother right now instead of heading back home.” He gave a sarcastic frown. “Oh, trouble in paradise?”

I frowned. “Excuse me?”

While he was equally as gorgeous as his brother, when Alec smirked, there was a hardness there that frightened me. “Didn’t my brother tell you? There’s a big, bad Unseelie guard out to get you. You really should be under his protection right about now.”

My eyes widened to saucers and I flattened my back against the train doors. Was he serious? “Why?”

“Why do we do anything?” Alec wondered aloud, sounding bored. He shrugged. “Cael wants to hurt my brother and thinks he can do that by harming his little girlfriend.” He reached for a strand of my hair and twirled it around his finger, admiring it. I was frozen in place, unable to breathe.

“I’m not Ansel’s girlfriend. We barely know each other,” I said, my voice choked and sounding far less confident than I hoped.

“Is that so?” Alec raised a brow and stepped toward me, closing in on my personal space. “Well, then, things just got remotely interesting.”

I furrowed my brows, wondering what he meant. Did I say something wrong? Should I have played it off like Ansel and I were a couple to stay safe? This was all so damn confusing!

He leaned in closer until I thought he was going to kiss me, so I fisted my hand and placed it on his abdomen, stopping his forward movement. I looked away guiltily.

The train came to a halt and the train doors opened behind me. Since I’d been using them to prop myself up, suddenly I was falling backwards. Alec caught my wrist and pulled me flush against his chest, stopping my descent.

Scant inches separated our faces. This close, I was mesmerized by the different shades of color trapped in his eyes. One iris was a striking shade of green, just like his brother’s, while the other was hazel flecked with gold. And just like Ansel, there was an angelic beauty to him that was too alluring to be real. The lines of his jaw were sharp, with angled cheekbones and a Roman nose. He was absolute perfection. I was completely enraptured, drawn to his face, searching for a flaw that proved he was real.

“Am I that beautiful to you?” he whispered against my lips.

The momentary spell broken, I stumbled out of his grip, using the train’s momentum. He grinned like he’d caught me with my pants down. It was unnerving.

“You’re not beautiful; you’re a demon,” I said harshly, pushing past him and stomping my way into another car. I didn’t bother looking behind to see if he was following me.

15

ANSEL

No matter how much I wanted to follow Vi home, she wasn’t the reason I was sent to the human realm. I’d spent too many days being distracted by her; it was time I did what I came there to do.

I entered my apartment, locked the doors, and headed straight for the bathroom, where I reached under the sink and inside the cabinet where I had taped the registry.

The other night at the piano bar, I met with a woman who stated she’d known who the last name on the registry was – someone named Marisol Santos. She’d given me an address not far away, in a sleepy Connecticut town. There was no age or details to describe what Marisol Santos looked like, so I was going in blind. All I knew was that she’d once lived in Iowa. This time, I knew I was on the right track. All the other names on the registry had been crossed out as deceased. Marisol was my last hope.

Slipping the registry inside my pocket, I opened a portal to the address I’d been given and jumped. The portal deposited me on the sidewalk of a quiet neighborhood in the suburbs of Connecticut. It was silent. No dogs barking, no kids playing. I glanced at my watch and noticed it was after typical school hours, which meant the streets should have been filled with children running off their pent-up energy, but nothing.

It was strange.

I took out the registry and confirmed the last name where I had written down the address the woman had provided. I peered around at my surroundings and found the house number across the street. Jogging toward it, I climbed the steps and knocked on the door, following it up by pressing the doorbell.

A couple minutes later, the door opened and an old woman appeared, dragging her walker. She was hunched over and looked as fragile as a glass figurine.

“Hello,” she said in a frail voice. “May I help you?”

I cleared my throat. “Yes, I’m looking for Marisol Santos?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Who’s asking?”

I gave her a bright smile, beaming my best charm. “Hello, my name is Ansel.”

“Does Ansel have a last name?” she asked skeptically.

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