Chapter 2

Two

brAN

Everything aches. Every joint and bone and muscle.

That’s my first clue that something is profoundly wrong.

The second is that it feels like my skin is melting from my bones.

Opening my eyes, I’m greeted by the blazing light of the sun. There is no time to comprehend why. There is only time to act.

I’m beneath the dark canopy of a mature hardwood tree in no time at all.

The burning subsides and my skin regenerates. As the smoke clears, I take in my surroundings.

I’m still in Bramwell Park, but the fairy grotto is gone and so is Mouse.

The rising tide of panic starts in my gut and crawls its way up my sternum, squeezing my heart until it hurts.

Where is she?

I scent the air, scanning the horizon. The light burns my eyes, and tears well beneath my lids, but I look harder, look farther, trying to spot her. Anything. Any clue at all.

But she isn’t there.

She is gone and it’s my fucking fault.

“A little toasty, is it?” a voice calls from slightly behind, to my left.

I glance over my shoulder to find a fae standing in dappled sunlight beneath a much younger red maple. He is pale and ethereal. There is a pack at his feet.

He’s not one I’m familiar with.

Over the years, since the gate closed, the fae have dwindled in number and power here in Midnight. There are greater populations in Europe and a lot of them left here for there. I’ve heard stories of other gates, ones that open and close on a whim so that you must be vigilant and nearby in order to catch them.

I’ve never laid eyes on one. Some say they are myths.

Only the gate in Midnight was a permanently open and accessible doorway. It’s why Damien wanted to establish Midnight just outside the gate. “Greater access to power,” he’d told me.

“For whom? Us or them?” I’d countered.

“Controlling the land directly beside their gate puts us at greater advantage.”

I could see his strategy. I could even agree with it. But it didn’t mean I liked it.

I’ve always been wary of the fae.

Until Mouse.

“This your doing?” I ask the fae. He’s leaning against the trunk of the tree, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle. He’s chewing on what looks like a piece of licorice.

“Depends on what you mean by ‘this.’”

Typical fae, dancing around a straight answer.

“I’m a vampire.”

“Yes,” he says.

“And I’m in the sunlight.”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Which is bad. Did you put me in the sunlight?”

“Yes,” he finally answers. “But ask me why.”

“Why?”

“Arion ordered me to.”

This isn’t unexpected. He wanted Mouse to help open the gate. And I delivered her directly into his trap like a stupid little shit. I should have taken the reins. I should have stood in front of Mouse instead of letting her lead.

The panic is still beating at the back of my head, but I can’t let it take control. Panic is only good for one thing— flight . And I will not run.

I will, however, maim.

But not until I have answers.

“You follow all of Arion’s orders?” I take a step to the left, so I can face the fae.

“Only the orders I cannot deny.”

I’m starting to catch on to what he’s not saying—he was ordered to dump me, but he’s not necessarily loyal to Arion.

Could be another trap. But at least I’m not drunk this time, though that throbbing in the back of my head might also be from a hangover.

“Where is she?” I ask.

“Do you feel it?” he answers instead, his gaze going to the sky. But I don’t think he means the fucking clouds.

I turn my senses inward and find a vibrating energy at the back of my neck.

A feeling I haven’t had in a very long time, one I never put thought to until it was absent.

Fae magic.

The gate is already open.

“Where is she?” I repeat and test the boundary of the sun only to get a searing shot of pain up my arm. It’s bright today. Blinding. And the hangover might be making me more vulnerable.

I’m trapped in the fucking sunlight with no way to get to Mouse.

Do not come undone. I can practically hear Damien’s voice in my ears. There is time to fall apart later. Now, you must act.

“Arion wanted the gate opened and your girl was his key,” the fae answers. He grabs the pack and steps out of the canopy of leaves and into a pool of light. His blond hair glitters. He’s even more pale in direct UV, like pure ice held to the sun. Is he Winter Court? Not high ranking. If he was, he’d already be dead. But perhaps just close enough that he may still hold some allegiance to the idea of the court.

“If your only job was to drop me here,” I say, “then why stay?”

“We might be able to help one another.” He tosses me the pack. It drops at my feet. It’s light and lumpy like it’s full of something soft.

I don’t smell gunpowder or metal, so likely not a bomb or some other explosive that would send wooden shrapnel through my body. And the fae may be lacking in power these days, but they aren’t dumb. If they wanted me dead, they could have staked me already instead of making a spectacle in the park in the middle of the day.

Crouching beside the bag, careful of the sunlight just beyond, I pull the zipper back and find a thick black tarp folded inside. I quickly yank it out, unfurl it, pulling it over my head to block out some of the UV light stealing through the tree branches.

Some of the stinging eases.

The fae holds up my cell phone. “Catch,” he says and tosses it to me.

I snatch it from the air and when I activate the screen, I find everything as it should be.

“I’d call someone to come get you. The noon sun fast approaches.” He goes back to his tree and waits.

My options are limited on who to call for help. Can’t call Jimmy. I’m tired of calling the Alpha. I decide on the witch. Bianca picks up on the third ring.

“Where are you?” she asks.

Excellent question.

“Long story. The fae have Jessie and they dumped me in Bramwell Park.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Witch,” I say. “Did you hear me? I need a ride. Now .”

“Bran?”

Hearing the deeper voice come through the line nearly makes my knees buckle.

“Damien?” I clutch to the phone harder and pace a circle around the tree trunk. “Is that really you?”

“It’s me,” he answers.

“Are you…okay?” I wince at the catch in my voice. I am a boy again, desperate for his older brother.

“I woke up an hour ago,” Damien answers.

“The gate,” I say.

“Yes. The witch says when the gate opened, the Renshaw spell broke.” There’s a rustle of something on the other end, and then Damien adds, “Stay where you are. We’re coming to get you.”

When I hang up the phone, I slump against the hardwood. The tarp crinkles loudly.

The fae clears his throat. “You’re welcome.”

I do not say thank you.

“My number is programmed in your phone under Baspin . When the sun gets low enough for your safety, call me and we can talk.” He turns and starts off.

“Why can’t we talk now? Jessie has already been missing at least an hour and?—”

“They won’t kill her. Yet .” He starts for the park entrance. “Arion knew as well as any of us that wiping out the Winter Court was not in their best interest. They were reckless, and I suspect they’ve been reaping what they sowed.”

“So what will they do with her?” I’m not sure who he’s referring to – Autumn Court? All of the Seelie? The war started with Autumn, but the way Baspin is talking, it feels like more. Like a collective.

Shit.

The fae keeps walking, but says over his shoulder, “Force her obedience.”

And then he’s gone.