It’s just the lure of the bounty, I’m sure of it.
The promise of a payday that big has all my seeking instincts out of whack. Of course the possibility for freedom, real freedom, would call to me, tempt me, make me consider going to Faerie to—
“No.”
The sound of my voice in the car's stillness startles me a little.
I let out a long breath.
Losing it.
I’m losing it.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to Faerie. Of all the thirteen realms, it’s the one so perilous to humans it’s made its way into the mundane consciousness. Although most people would write off stories of mushroom ring portals and faerie bargains and terrible, enchanted courts no one ever returns from as only fables, there’s more than a little truth to it.
Everything I’ve heard about that realm is a big, flashing warning sign to stay the hell away.
Which shouldn’t make me even more curious about it.
Scratch that.
Itdoesn’tmake me even more curious about it.
It doesn’t make me ache to go back to the Veil, lay my hand on the stone, and see if the Goddess would grant me the swirling lavender ether of Faerie. It doesn’t make my mind race with possibilities about what the fae queen’s bounty might be, how much it would be worth, if my seeking abilities might make me uniquely qualified to—
“Fuck,” I mutter, stopping those racing thoughts short. “No.”
Fumbling in the darkness to reach the dashboard, I turn on the radio and crank it up high. Anything to drown out my idiocy and impulses.
A half-hour later, I pull up a narrow gravel drive to a familiar cottage in the woods.
All the lights are dark in the whimsical, crooked, three-story building. No one to see me sneak in. No one to question where the hell I’ve been or to finally, finally tell me I need to pull my shit together and get my own place.
Mom and dad are much too understanding for that.
They’ve watched me struggle to find my way these past few years. They’ve voiced their concerns and even tried a bit of tough love here and there, but they’d never leave me on my own completely.
And that, somehow, makes me feel even worse as I find the spare key beneath the loose brick in the low wall encircling the garden and let myself in the back door. It makes me feel like even more of a failure as I climb the narrow, spiral staircase all the way to the third floor and into the magickal tower bedroom that didn’t used to be just mine.
All that guilt and shame and the lingering tug of my seeking instinct—and something else I’m absolutely not going to name—hound me into bed and keep me awake long, long after sleep should have claimed me.
6
Callum
Stumbling out the other side of the Veil, I barely take two steps before opening a portal in front of me. I’m through it in a heartbeat, stepping back out at the gates of the demon court.
Carved directly into the side of a high, craggy mountain peak, the gates are magickally sealed and well guarded. They soar high above, an impressive showcase of the court’s grandeur and the magick required to build and maintain it.
As I approach, I draw immediate notice.
“Callum Kersgrove,” I say by way of greeting. “Requesting entrance to King Eren’s court.”
“We’re not expecting any visitors this evening,” one of the pair of demons standing sentry—a young soldier who I don’t recognize from any of my prior visits to court—says warily.
“A last-minute request,” I amend. “I seek an audience with the queen.”
He looks at me like I’m something he just scraped off the bottom of his boot.
