Faebound Rhapsody Page 4

  I shake my head. “Not without his help, I can’t.”

  “What do you do then?” he asks, folding his arms over his chest. “What’s your superpower?”

  “That’s the thing,” I say with a sheepish grin. “I can’t do anything right now. It’s like the magic inside of me has just vanished. But I used to wield this little ball of light and use it to destroy the… Unseel—the bad guys. That magic was only temporary since it belonged to Alexander…” I pause. There is no need to get into all of that right now. Greg needs simple. Hell, I need simple, too. “I also used to hear music that would… sort of open up a channel of communication between me and The Elements… The Earth’s Four Elements, that is. The Elements would offer me guidance and helped me understand what I needed to do next.” I glance at him, just to make sure he’s keeping up, but he just stares at me as if he still doesn’t believe me.

  “Like some kind of oracle?” he asks.

  “That’s what Colin calls it, but I’m not really sure. Oracle… that sounds like some kind of 1980s fantasy movie. But I suppose receiving guidance from Mother Earth is sort of like being an oracle. The last thing I was some voice telling me my magic is with The Chosen Four.”

  I don’t tell him I heard that voice seconds before he arrived back home.

  “Epic,” Greg murmurs, giving me a wary look.

  I slump forward and bury my face in my hands.

  “I know you think this is all normal for me or that it doesn’t weird me out or anything, but it most definitely does.” I look up at him. “It’s all still new to me, too. And it’s not as if I have a choice. It’s happening whether I want it or not. And right now, the music has vanished. The light ray, as I like to call it, has also vanished.” I let my hands fall to the table. “Hell, G, did you know that I can’t even use my phone anymore?” I hold it up for him to see. “You know I tried to send you a message earlier? Asking where you were? But the message wouldn’t send. Then the whole phone just crashed. I couldn’t even get it to come back on.”

  “Maybe faerie princesses can’t use smartphones, Sophe.” He offers me a tight grin. “Maybe your fingers no longer register as human fingers now that you’ve slept with a faerie, so the phone won’t respond to your touch anymore.” He gasps, his face brightening. “Ooh! I know! Maybe the Prince stole your faerie magic. Tricked you into marrying him so he could steal your magic! Faeries are tricky, Sophe. I’ve read Shakespeare. I know how it works.”

  I do my best to keep my cool, but Greg does not seem to take any of this seriously. My magic and the issues surrounding its strange disappearance seem to be nothing more than a joke to him.

  “This isn’t Shakespeare,” I mutter, my stomach twisting from what he just said. “Alexander did not steal my magic. It doesn’t work like that.”

  Does it?

  “Well, why else would a guy who looks that godlike marry you, Sophe?” Greg teases and then, realizing his rudeness, looks down at his hands, pretending to be interested in something on his fingernail. “Not that doesn’t love you, or whatever,” he backtracks, “but you guys couldn’t have known each other very well, and… it… the marriage… or whatever you call it… happened really fast.” I glare at my best friend, though I’m wondering if I can even call him that anymore. “That came out all wrong,” Greg sighs, realizing he’s dug himself in a hole. “I just worry about you. You know I have trust issues with beautiful men who are always after a girl’s magic.”

  He cracks a smile like he’s just come up with some perfect metaphor. But I’m not feeling very jovial, nor am I in the mood for metaphors. I’m expected to go to some school so I can learn how to be a proper Fae Princess. I’m suddenly questioning my husband’s trustworthiness. And my best friend who looks like he’s gone from jock to junkie overnight thinks I’m nothing more than a joke. All the while, the weight of this world, now shrouded in darkness, weighs heavier than ever on my shoulders.

  Alexander claims that this, whatever this is, doesn’t concern me. But I’ve heard that tired, old song before. And I know well enough that when he or anyone says that something “doesn’t concern me”, it roughly translates to “be ready to save the world”.

  Greg reaches for my phone and powers it on and opens up several apps, smugly proving to me that my phone is still in perfect working order. This does nothing but make me feel even more useless.

  “Well, your phone works for me,” he boasts, flashing a triumphant grin. “Maybe you just need a magic phone to go with your magic fingers.”

  “That’s absurd.” I roll my eyes as I snatch my phone back from him. But is it, though? He has a point. “I do not have magic fingers. I’m still me, G. Nothing’s changed. And when all of this is over and things settle down, I’m going to wash my hands of all this magic, and settle down with Alexander right here. I’ll be back to my old self, and I promise you will love Alexander once you get to—“

  “Nothing has changed?” Greg snorts, his dark eyes glittering with anger. “Nothing has changed? Are you kidding? If what you say is true… that you ran off to… the 1920s and married a supernatural stranger…. Then I’d say things have changed. Everything has changed, Sophe,” he shouts. “You don’t even look like the same person anymore. I mean, look at you. Your skin is as pale as death, your hair is so blond, it’s almost silver, and with all that dark makeup you’re wearing, you look like you just stepped off the set of a Charlie Chaplin movie. God, what are you even wearing? Is that Erte? Like, an actual Erte gown? Because that’s what it looks like.” I look down at myself. I’d forgotten all about my beautiful wedding gown, which is torn in a few spots and covered with faerie portal muck. “And don’t even get me started on your creepy supernatural friends or your husband, who’s what… a Fae Prince? Are you kidding me?”

  He pauses, but I’m too stunned to offer any kind of response.

  “And now you tell me you’re back from your time-traveling escapades and on some mission to save the world from an evil druid? What is a druid anyway?” Greg looks like he’s about to come unglued. All the words he’s wanted to say since I arrived back come tumbling from his mouth, and he grows more enraged by the second. “You want to tell me nothing has changed? Are you insane, Sophia? Or are you just that self-absorbed?”

  “Not cool,” I say, rising from my seat to take my dishes to the kitchen. “You have absolutely no idea what I’ve been through—“

  “What you’ve been through? Seriously? Did you ever stop to think what I’ve been through since you’ve been gone?” He storms after me into the kitchen, grabs me by the shoulders, and turns me to face him. “I was worried sick about you. Everyone was. There was a candlelight vigil for you on campus and everything. We thought someone had abducted you. Some were convinced you ran off with that professor. That, that… vampire. They had search teams out looking for you both for weeks,” he screams. “Do you know how hard it is… how exhausting it is… to try to convince everyone that your best friend, who may or may not be dead, isn’t really a whore? That she wasn’t really sleeping with her professor? That no, she didn’t have it coming. And no, she wasn’t asking for it.”

  Tears spring to his eyes, and he swipes them away with the back of his hand.

  Ah, hell.

  “Greg, I am so, so sorry.” I step in front of him and place my hands on his trembling shoulders. “I will kill Chris. He was supposed to help with that. He was supposed to…”

  Why didn’t he help with this? This whole thing was sloppy. Christoph von Drauchenberg is a lot of things, but sloppy is not one of those things. He’s the most efficient person I’ve ever met.

  “Well, he didn’t,” Greg snaps, shoving me out of his way. “And while you were off, traipsing around Weimar Berlin, drinking champagne, screwing faeries, and playing flapper-girl, people here were sick… absolutely sick with grief over you.”

  “Look, all I can say is that I’m sorry,” I wail. “I trusted someone to help keep this from becoming a… a thing, and I don’t know why
he didn’t. But please know that I did what I had to do.”

  “Oh yes,” Greg says with a sneer. “Your destiny. Silly me. I forgot all about your goddamned destiny. That you’re going to stop this plague of darkness some bad guy has brought upon us. You can’t even make it to class on time. And now you’re going to save the world?” He lets out a snort of laughter. “We’re doomed if that’s the case.”

  “I wanted to let you in,” I whisper. “You’re my best friend. I wanted you to know the truth about what happened to me. I’ve lied to you and to myself long enough. I… just wanted to tell you the truth about me, what I am, and what I’m supposed to do.”

  “You know what? Sometimes lies are easier for us mere mortals to stomach.” He snarls his fingers through his hair, his expression desperate. Pleading. Defeated. “You can’t have it both ways with me, Sophe. I can’t… I can’t handle it. Pick a side. Pick your supernatural friends or pick me. But you can’t have both.”

  4

  I can’t have both.

  Chris said as much earlier yesterday evening. But it’s not a choice I’m ready to make. After a sleepless night, tossing and worrying about Alexander, and then turning, only to worry about Greg, I’d stumbled out of my bedroom, dehydrated and grumpy the next morning. I find Greg sitting at the kitchen table. He’s impeccably dressed and ready to take on the day with a cup of coffee in one hand and his tablet in the other. He looks up at me and flashes a broad smile. Whatever was affecting him last night seems to have passed, and, despite the faint bags under his eyes, he looks much, much better.

  “Good morning,” he chirps, his pleasant expression turning to a frown when he notes my haggard appearance. “You okay? You look like I felt last night.”

  “Rough night,” I mumble as I stagger into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. “Probably from traveling or something.”

  “Ah, traveling. Through time and space,” he replies in his best superhero voice as he gets up and follows me into the kitchen. He’s at least trying. I’ll give him that. “I wish to apologize for the way I acted last night,” he continues. “It really shook me up when you returned and brought your supernatural entourage with you. And I guess it brought all kinds of stuff to the surface. Then when you told me everything, I just sort of flipped out.” He shrugs.

  Sort of? That’s the understatement of the year.

  “I understand,” I say, popping a coffee pod into the machine and turning to face him. “And I am truly sorry for what I put you through.”

  He waves a hand.

  “We’ll get through it,” he promises. “But first, let’s go to breakfast,” he suggests, grinning from ear to ear as if he’s been waiting all morning to ask. “Like old times?”

  The very idea of having breakfast with my best friend, just like we used to, fills me with such joy, I almost cry. Setting the coffee pod aside, I nod and race back to my bedroom to get dressed and attempt to smooth down the platinum finger waves that seem to be a permanent fixture on my head now. 1920s hair shellac is no joke.

  The darkness, while depressing, does nothing to disrupt our familiar banter. We step out the door, laughing and joking just like we used to. The weight of the things he said to me last night still hangs heavy over me, but I do my best to shove it aside for now. I want to show him that, despite the time travel, the Fae-Prince-husband, and the magical entourage, I’m still the same old Sophia Kelly.

  “Going somewhere, Miss Kelly?”

  His voice carries a foreboding tone. Of course, Chris would have an issue with me breaking the rules and leaving the house. I glance around the front yard, in search of my vampire babysitter, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I’d explained to him last night that we all needed to tone down the supernatural hijinks for the sake of my friendship with Greg. And while Chris had argued that a loyal friend would accept me as I am no matter what, he’d agreed to keep a low profile.

  “Just walking to the diner up the street for breakfast,” I answer.

  “You’re not supposed leave the house,” Chris reminds me. “You know I love to defy the Fae, but this is one instance where I think Auberon is right. The attack last night has put the Council on edge. And it’s best you follow orders and stay home until we get a handle on it.”

  “Well, my fearless protector, why don’t you tag along behind us or something,” I say, nodding along to whatever Greg is cheerfully babbling on about and pretending to pay attention. “You agreed to babysit, you know. But what you failed to remember when you took the job is that I rarely listen to orders.” Chris mutters a few choice curse words in German, which I respond to without missing a beat. “You’ve also forgotten that Colin taught me German in Berlin.” I bite back a smile.

  As we walk to the popular breakfast joint down the street, I take a moment to admire all the kitschy restaurants and local businesses our little campus neighborhood offers. They seem to make the best of things, each trying to outdo the other. Creative, colorful, and sometimes over-the-top displays light up the sidewalks and brighten entryways. Their attempts to draw people in from the cold, oppressive darkness, I suppose.

  I smile as a man whizzes by on a unicycle with blue Christmas lights strung through its spokes. He has a flashing neon sign strapped to his back that advertises a vegan clothing store a few blocks past the diner. A pair of dachshunds yap at us from the doorway of a campus souvenir shop, each wearing a dog-sized Texas Longhorns football jersey.

  This is the Austin, Texas I know: always ready to find a quirky, imaginative way to shine a light in life’s darkness and keep on keeping on.

  To my surprise, people are out today. They mill about, trying to carry on as best they can. And while most of them seem weirded out by the darkness, they still go about their business, oblivious to the real situation. And it’s best that they stay that way.

  The spot we’ve chosen is a local favorite, specializing in all-day breakfast and other diner favorites that nobody ever eats because their breakfast is so good. The staff consists of smiling, friendly people, and their tattoos and piercings are just as much of a staple as the chips and queso the place is known for.

  “Wow,” I exclaim. “Is the entire neighborhood here?”

  “You remember what it’s like in here,” Greg says, looking back at me with a hint of a smile as he pushes his way through the tightly packed crowd and up to the hostess station.

  “The wait looks bad from here, but it goes fast,” Greg says when he returns. “She said fifteen minutes.”

  He pulls his phone from his pocket, and I watch as he scrolls through a social media feed of photos and video clips. And I take pride in that, for once in my life, I’m not tied to my phone like everyone else in here. Probably because it no longer works for me. Regardless, it’s a wonderful feeling, but it doesn’t stop me from sticking my nose in Greg’s business.

  “Who is that?” I ask, noting the dreamy expression on his face as he stops scrolling to gaze down at a picture of a handsome blond guy with crystal-blue eyes and dimples.

  “No one. Just a guy from one of my classes,” Greg says, quickly clicking out of the blond’s profile and returning to the news feed. “I’ve been crushing on him for a while, but he recently asked me out, so—“

  “Wait,” I exclaim. “You have a boyfriend, and you didn’t tell me about him?”

  Greg reddens, uncomfortable by this observation.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” he asserts, avoiding my eyes. “We’ve just hung out a couple of times.”

  “But you want him to be your boyfriend, don’t you?” I tease. “Greg! I think that’s wonderful. Maybe we can go on a double-date sometime. Besides, I’m just dying to see how Alexander reacts to all of our modern marvels.”

  I laugh to myself when I struggle to imagine Alexander in the 21st Century.

  “Yeah, maybe we can.”

  A guilty look crosses his face, like there’s something he’s not telling me. I start to ask him about it, but before I can, the very guy Greg was just drooli
ng over stands in front of us.

  “Hey, Greg,” he says in a slow southern drawl as he sidles up beside my friend as if he owns him.

  “Justin!” he chokes. “Hey!”

  Greg pulls his friend in for a hug so awkward, I wince. He’s just as nervous around Justin as I used to be around Chris, except I would’ve never dreamed of hugging Chris at this stage of the relationship.

  “I got here a few minutes early, so I went ahead and got us a table,” Justin explains, eyeing me curiously.

  Us? The three of us? A table? Greg said nothing about this.

  Without taking his eyes off of my face, Justin hands the flashing pager to a gawky, purple-haired girl with a lower lip full of piercings and the beginnings of an owl tattoo on her shoulder. As she leads us to a booth near the back of the restaurant, I work to catch Greg’s eye so I can silently ask him what’s going on. But he’s too enamored with Justin to notice.

  I slide into the booth while Justin and Greg sit opposite me, and I am so flustered and out-of-sorts by the strange turn of events and Justin’s creepy gaze, I turn my attention to the menu so I don’t have to look at either of them.

  “Greg, love, can you get me one of those cinnamon rolls they have in the case up front?” Justin asks.

  My head jerks up at his ridiculous request, and I feel an immediate need to defend my friend who obediently climbs over Justin so he can exit the booth.

  “Watch my foot,” Justin growls.

  Greg gasps, nearly falling forward out of the booth. Justin couldn’t at least have gotten up? What in the world is going on here?

  “I’m pretty sure our server would be more than happy to bring you one,” I say. “She’s coming now with our coffee.”

  He cocks his head and grins at me.

  “I want Greg to get it for me,” he says with a cool smile.