Across from me, the kid on the other computer gave me a weird look. His friend in the chair next to him rolled his eyes.
But for once, I didn’t care.
It couldn’t be fae. The fae weren’treal.
They were just a Selmo legend because our national forests butted up to the town and hikers occasionally went missing. The crazy stories were something we peddled for fun and tourism in the summer. Even the most dedicated people in town didn’t actually believe the nonsense they spewed.
Normally, I managed to be pretty open-minded, but this stretched reality a little too far.
Why was I resisting the idea? It almost felt like Icouldn’tconsider it.
No one could know. The words came back to me again.
Was it... Was it possible they actually could influence my mind? That they’d put some sort of spell on me to make me forget?
I wasn’t accepting the existence of fae just yet, but... it couldn’t hurt to keep reading.
The fae are a species of magical beings known for their glittery wings, untrustworthy bargains, and inability to give a straight answer.
Commonly found in forests, garden centers, and mysteriously sticky pub bathrooms, the fae subsist entirely on honey, moonlight, and the chaos of poorly worded wishes.
Ooookay.
Right.
This was probably a dead end.
The two creatures I’d seen hadn’t had wings, which brought everything else in the article into question.
I dragged the mouse up to the corner to click the little X and close the window, then stopped.
It might be total fiction, but what if something in here was true?
With nothing else to go on, I scrolled down.
Approaching the fae requires caution: Never accept gifts, never drink their wine, and under no circumstances make a deal or sign anything. This is a binding contract, enforceable by magic, and you now owe them three secrets, a sock, and your middle name.
I snorted at that bit, earning another glare from the boys at the computer across from mine.
What kind of nonsense was this?
It sounded like they’d pulled a list of random things out of a hat. A sock?
I scoffed again.
Mumbling came from the two boys as they packed up and left, but I ignored them.
It sounded suspiciously like that popular novel everyone my age had read growing up, which made me wonder if this whole site was just some sort of fan fiction.
My eyes returned to the line above it though:And under no circumstances make a deal or sign anything. This is a binding contract, enforceable by magic.
I mentally compared this info to what I knew:
Magic or no, they’d said Mom had signed a contract, and she hadn’t argued. She’d just let them take her.
Somethingkept me from telling Dad or anyone else.
As much as my mind resisted the idea, a question forced its way to the surface:Do fae actually exist?
