1. Lily

Ilooked down at the crumpled five-dollar bill in my right hand…and then at the jar of chunky peanut butter in my left. Peanut butter is a good source of protein and energy—a little bit can keep you going for quite a long time. But the price tag on the side of the jar read $4.99.

I had enough change to cover the tax, but if I spent it, that was it—I was officially out of funds—a nice way of saying "flat broke."

I considered the peanut butter again and then looked out the large plate glass window of the Grab N Go, which was the last gas station around for miles. My tired old Chevy minivan was riding on empty. If I spent my last five dollars and change on food, I was going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future. Or at least until someone got sick of seeing me out in the small parking area and called to get me towed away. Then what would I do? I couldn't just?—

"Hey, lady—you gonna buy that or what?"

The clerk's voice broke my train of thought and I looked up to see him smirking at me, his long hair flopping in his face. I bet he thought girls liked that. I thought about telling him he was wrong and decided against it—I was too tired and hungry to pick a fight. Especially with someone who could get me towed if he wanted to.

"No…I guess not." Reluctantly, I put the peanut butter back on the shelf with the other overpriced groceries. Things always cost more at the gas station but there was no grocery store anywhere around—not that I could afford much of anything there either.

If I used the money for gas, I could possibly make it to the local food pantry tomorrow, I told myself. And maybe they could point me in the direction of a women's shelter. I hated to go stay someplace like that, but it was time to admit defeat—I couldn't keep living in my car forever.

I walked up to the counter and laid the crumpled five-dollar bill on the counter.

"Five dollars of regular on pump six," I told the clerk, who rang me up without comment.

I watched as the five disappeared into his register. It was my emergency money—the bill I'd always kept in the tiny back pocket of my purse in case I ran short. Parting with it hurt—and it hurt even more to use it for gas.

My stomach was growling angrily at me, but I told myself I wasn't starving yet. I still had plenty of padding on my hips and ass. I've always been a curvy girl. I used to joke that I could live off my curves for months—now I was testing that theory and finding that it wasn't much fun. Also, even though I hadn't had enough to eat in what felt like forever, I still wasn't anywhere near skinny—how is that fair?

I went out and pumped the gas, noticing that the minivan's left front tire was worryingly low. I might have enough change to use the air machine and fill it up, but I didn't want to deal with it tonight.

Instead, I pulled around to the far side of the tiny parking lot at the back of the Grab N Go, far out of everyone's way. The gas station was out in the back of beyond—I'd ended up here after taking a wrong turn—and the area was pretty rural.

The lot was backed by a small field that sloped down into a thick forest. I could hear the wind rustling in the trees but I couldn't see much past what the sodium arc lights mounted over the pumps showed.

It was already getting chilly—not surprising since the area was right at the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains and it was Autumn. I wished I could turn on the car and run the heater, but I didn't dare waste the pitiful bit of fuel that my last five dollars had bought me. Instead, I turned around and rummaged in my big duffle bag which held pretty much everything I owned in the world. I managed to wrestle my winter coat out of the bag and dragged it on.

I hadn't worn it since last winter and I couldn't help thinking how different my life had been back then—not even a year ago. We'd had a family Christmas with everyone gathered in the big house in Ashville that Christopher had been able to buy after he made partner. Both the kids were there—Amy had flown in from France where she was doing a study abroad program and Chris Junior had brought his new wife all the way from Oregon.

Thinking of my step kids always gave me a warm glow. I might not have given birth to them, but I had raised them from the ages of three and five—for all intents and purposes, I was their mom.

I had met their father, Christopher—now my ex—back in the early 2000s when I was still a college student. My plan had been to go to Law School and then right all the injustices of the world. I was going to be a women's rights activist and lawyer and do Pro Bono work for battered and abused women at the women's shelter…which was probably where I was going to end up by tomorrow night.

Not that my ex had ever beaten or abused me. When we met, he was a young father himself and his wife had just run off to live with her boyfriend, leaving him with two young children to raise and no idea of how to raise them. I had fallen for the kids as much as him—I'd always wanted to be a mom. I even loved babysitting when I was a kid. So it was easy for Amy and Chris Junior to find their way into my heart.

Next thing I knew, Christopher and I were married. At first he assured me that of course I could keep my dreams and go to Law School. But it seemed like one or both of the kids was always getting sick. And Christopher could never stay home with them because his job didn't allow any kind of parental leave.

Little by little, I let the time slide by. I finished my Pre-Law classes, but I never quite got around to applying for Law School. Then Christopher had a chance at a promotion…but only if he finished his Master's degree. So we agreed that I would work part time and watch the kids to help him get through.

Of course, after he got his Masters and his promotion, I would be able to go to Law School—that was the promise. But again, it never really happened. The kids were busy with school and extracurricular activities and Christopher was making really good money. He moved us into a bigger house and admitted that he'd always wanted a "traditional wife."

"Why bother with all the work and worry of going to Law School when I can support us all on my salary?" he asked me. "I mean, come on, Lily—even if you did get a Law Degree, what would you do with it? And who would pick up the kids from school if you were working a nine-to-five job? Who would be their mom? They need you to be at home for them."

It hurt at first, to give up my dream. But I had been slowly giving it up for years at that point—so maybe it didn't hurt as much as it should have. I let myself believe that Christopher and the kids needed me at home and I concentrated on being the best mom and wife I could.

I was always the homeroom parent and I never missed a PTA meeting. I had a hot dinner on the table every night and I drove the kids to all their extracurricular activities. If I had a dollar for every soccer game, little league tournament, gymnastics class, and piano recital I attended while Christopher was busy working…well, I wouldn't be living in my car.

The trouble began when Amy, the youngest, graduated high school and went off to college. Christopher started getting really distant and working even longer hours than usual. He was hardly ever home and when he was home, he barely said two words to me.

I tried to ignore my husband's neglect, but it hurt. I'd worked so hard for years to make a loving home for him and the kids. Now that we were empty nesters, I'd been hoping for a long-deserved vacation. Maybe a cruise to the Bahamas or even just a trip down to Miami or Key West, where I had always wanted to go.

But instead of surprising me with a vacation or a cruise, my husband surprised me with something completely different—divorce papers.

He didn't even give them to me himself—he had me served by a solicitor, like I was somebody he was suing. Just some strange man who rang the doorbell and then handed me paperwork that ended my life as I knew it.

I couldn't believe what was happening to me. I called Christopher over and over but his number went to voice mail again and again. Finally, after five hours of me blowing up his phone, he called me back.

"Listen, Lily—there's no point in arguing about this so don't start." His voice had been clipped and impatient over the phone—as though my demanding to talk about the surprise divorce papers was a huge inconvenience for him.

"But…but I don't understand—why are you doing this?" My voice was hoarse from crying by then and my eyes were red and raw.

"There's nothing to understand—we've been growing apart for some time now, so we're getting a divorce." He said it with such finality, as though I had no say in the matter.

And as it turned out, I didn't. The divorce hearing was only a few days after I got the papers. I should have gotten a lawyer but I was still in shock—also, I didn't have the money for one. Christopher and I had never kept separate accounts—we didn't need to since I didn't have a job. But the cash in the shared account was getting extremely low because he hadn't put anything into it for a long time.

I realized afterwards that I should have done whatever it took to get some legal representation. But honestly, I don't know if it would have made a difference. Because the judge just happened to be one of Christopher's golfing buddies.

The divorce was granted immediately and I got nothing. You always think you could at least get alimony if your husband dumps you, but that wasn't the case for me. The Honorable Judge Donavan—or "Judge Don" as his buddies called him—awarded almost everything to Christopher.

My ex got the house, his nice new Range Rover, the boat he'd bought himself, and all our assets. All I got to keep were the clothes on my back and the beat-up minivan we'd dubbed "Mom's taxi" years ago when the kids were still in school.

The judge even had two policemen escort me back to the house and stand over me while I packed my things—like I was a criminal who might rob the place! I only had an hour to cram as much as I could into a duffel bag and get out. They hadn't even let me get into the safe that Christopher kept behind one of the pictures in my bedroom. I had tried to explain that there were some important documents and jewelry in there that belonged to me, but they weren't having any of it.

"I'm sure your ex-husband will mail you anything you left behind," one of the officers told me sternly. "Now please get moving, you have to leave the premises in the next five minutes."

As I pulled out of the driveway with barely five hundred dollars in my pocket and a duffel bag full of clothes and a few knickknacks the kids had made me for Christmas and Mother's Day, I saw Christopher pulling in with a locksmith's van right behind him. My ex-husband got out of the car and a slim, young blonde that couldn't have been a day over twenty, slithered out to stand beside him and hang on his arm.

I should have gotten out and shouted at him—or at least demanded my things from the safe. But the sight left me numb. As distant as he had been, I hadn't dreamed that he'd been cheating on me—especially not with a woman young enough to be his daughter!

As I drove away, my last sight was of the two of them cuddling on the front lawn while the locksmith changed the locks so there was no possible way I could ever go back to my old life.

To say I cried, cussed, raged, and felt betrayed once the numbness wore off is an understatement—but what could I do? I had no money for any kind of legal representation and the deed was already done. The divorce was final and I was out.

After over twenty years of marriage in which I never cheated once and worked my behind off to make a nice home for him and his kids, not to mention sacrificing my own chance at education and a career, Christopher had kicked me to the curb.

I'd been living in my car ever since. Five hundred dollars doesn't last long in this economy and unsurprisingly, Christopher had cleared out the joint account and shut it down, so there was no money there. I wasn't about to throw away the little I had on hotel rooms, so I did my best in the minivan.

No, I didn't call the kids to ask for help. I was determined to make it back on my feet and start over. I'd been going to job interviews for weeks now…but having a twenty year gap in my resume made it almost impossible to get any kind of employment. Nobody, it seemed, wanted to hire a washed up, middle-aged mom whose only work experience was babysitting and making smoothies at Jamba Juice over twenty years ago.

Last week I had even resorted to selling plasma for gas and grocery money but you can't do that too often—not if you want to keep on, you know, living. You can't?—

My morbid thoughts were interrupted by a strange, twinkling light I could see through the windshield. I leaned forward, wiping at the dirty glass with the sleeve of my coat. What was that? It wasn't just one light now—it was dozens—hundreds, and they were all different colors. Tiny, twinkling lights—blue, pink, green, gold, silver, red, orange…I saw them winking among the trees, down in the blackness of the forest.

At that moment, as I concentrated on the lights, something strange happened to me—something that hadn't happened in a very long time.

My birthmark started to tingle.

It's a weird shape, my birthmark—it almost looks like a tiny spider, no bigger than my pinky fingernail. The eight legs are no thicker than eyelashes and it sits at the top of my forehead, right under the point of my widow's peak. I felt self-conscious about it when I was younger so I always wore bangs, but it had gotten lighter as I aged.

I tore my eyes away from the twinkling lights for a moment and pulled down my sunshade instead. It had a lighted mirror on the underside and I switched it on to study my reflection.

The narrow mirror showed a tired looking, middle-aged woman with gray streaks in her short brown hair. I hadn't had the money to dye it in some time and it looked messy and unkempt.

I had bags under my brown eyes—which were bloodshot. It's almost impossible to get good, restful sleep when you're living in your car. You feel too vulnerable—anyone could look in and see you and decide you don't belong and ought to be towed. Or worse, someone could break in and hurt you. I'd been sleeping with one eye open for weeks and it showed on my haggard face.

I used to be pretty.

The thought drifted through my mind like a sad little bubble. I still had the same delicate features—the cute little nose and full lips that Christopher had claimed he'd fallen in love with the first time he met me. I have slightly pointed ears too—he used to call me his "Little Elf."

But now there was nothing left of my beauty—or my youth. It had all been used up—wasted on a man who threw me away like garbage the minute I was done raising his kids.

I tried to push the painful thoughts out of my head and concentrate on my birthmark instead. It was tingling more than ever—in fact, it was almost itching by now.

I moved my graying hair out of the way and leaned forward to stare at it. The tiny spider mark which had been so prominent when I was younger, had faded until it was almost the color of the skin surrounding it in the past ten years. But now it was showing again—it was bright red, in fact. What was going on?

I frowned as I poked it gently with one fingertip. My adoptive mother used to tell me that the birthmark would get red and inflamed from time to time when I was a baby. She said I would cry and cry when it did that and there was nothing she could do to comfort me.

Several doctors told her not to be concerned—that it was just a discoloration of the pigment, not anything serious like cancer. But she had worried about the mark all her life. Worried because nobody knew who my real birth parents were or what diseases or conditions they might have passed on to me.

"They found you in one of those Baby Boxes they have at the fire stations," my Mom had told me, when I was old enough to hear the truth. "Someone left you there with a note and a beautiful necklace that your Dad and I have always kept safe for you. The note said, ‘Please take good care of this baby. She is very special.' And so the firemen called the hospital and they checked you out and sent you to the adoption agency and that's where Dad and I got you. We chose you out of all the other babies because that note was right—you are special, Lily, and don't you forget it!"

I sighed as I remembered my Mom's little speech. She and my adoptive Dad were both dead now—he from a heart attack and she from breast cancer—so I couldn't call them up and talk about it. Or ask for a place to stay for that matter. What little they had left me had gone into the joint bank account that Christopher had closed. It was long gone anyway—spent on various things the kids needed. I wished I had saved some of it now, but of course it was too late.

As for the necklace—a gorgeous filigreed silver pendant with a purple stone in the center—well, that was one of the things that had been left back in the safe. And of course, though I had tried to contact Christopher, he had never gotten back to me. So that was lost to me too, along with…

"Ouch!" I gasped, jerked out of my morbid thoughts. The birthmark wasn't just tingling now—it was burning. What was wrong with me?

I put a finger to the tiny mark again and it felt like it was on fire! I needed something to cool it down—some water or maybe just the cool night air.

Looking around to be sure no one else was in the parking lot, I slipped out of the minivan, locked it, and pocketed the keys. The fresh air gusting up from the forest below me did help to cool the burning. I heaved a sigh of relief and took a deep breath of night air.

And that was when I smelled it—a whiff of the most heavenly, delicious scent I had ever smelled. It was like fresh strawberries and vanilla custard and warm cinnamon all mixed together. It made my mouth water but it did something else too—it gave me the strangest feeling of déjà vu.

They say that scent is strongly linked to memory but I had no memory of dancing lights in the trees…or did I? I stared at the blinking, twinkling sparks that were still visible, winking in and out between the dark shadows of the forest. What was going on down there? I had to find out.

This is a bad idea, Lily, I told myself, even as I left the parking area and walked down the sloping field that led to the forest. You shouldn't go into the woods at night! There could be bears or snakes or something even worse. What if it's some kind of serial killer, trying to lure prey down into the forest? Or what if it's some kind of Satanic ritual or cult activity?

But no warning I gave myself could compete with that tantalizing aroma. It seemed to pull me onward, teasing me with memories I could almost catch. It reminded me of being a little girl and wading in the creek behind our house. There were tiny, bright silver fish that lived in the chilly water that I always tried to catch—only they always slipped through my fingers. That was what the memories were like—bright flashes I could almost but not quite catch and remember.

I barely noticed it when I crossed from the field into the forest. The lights were getting brighter—closer—though I couldn't see what was making them. And the scent was getting stronger.

Not only that, but I could hear music now—beautiful, otherworldly melodies played in a minor key that teased my ears and brought tears to my eyes along with an intense sense of longing. I needed to be where that music was being played.

I didn't know what musical instrument was making those enchanted sounds—I thought it was some kind of flute. But it was accompanied by the low, steady beat of drums. I found that without even trying, my feet had fallen into the same rhythm, stepping in time to the beat almost as though I was dancing. And all the time, my birthmark kept tingling and the scent kept drawing me onward.

At last the lights got closer and I saw that they were fireflies of some kind. They were flying all around a large clearing—a clearing filled with people. But not just any ordinary people—this wasn't a bunch of hunters sitting around a camp fire or a cult practicing rituals. In fact, they weren't even human—at least, I didn't think they were.

Most of them had skin tones that ranged from pale silver to dark platinum, though there were a few variations in color. One big guy in particular seemed to have a sage green tint to his platinum skin—it was easy to see since his muscular arms were bare.

These people had hair that was pure white, (though the guy with greenish skin had black hair,) and their ears were long and pointed at the tips. Their eyes…I shook my head and rubbed my own eyes as I stared at them.

Their eyes were glowing just like the fireflies zipping around. I saw all different colors, from neon blue to pale green to gold to silver—all of them glowing softly in their dark faces like miniature moons.

And speaking of their faces, they almost all had sharp, delicate features that were too beautiful to be human. From their long, pointed ears to their wide, glowing eyes, they were the most gorgeous people I had ever seen. Seriously, the plainest of them would make even the prettiest Instagram model look like a troll.

When I managed to tear my gaze from their faces, I noticed their clothes. Long, flowing robes for the men and gauzy, nearly see-through dresses for the women seemed to be the order of the day—although the guy with sage green skin tones was wearing a metal breast plate with carvings on it. He looked bigger and stronger than the others—and since they were all extremely tall, that was saying something.

I stared at them in wonder. They looked a little like two people I had met once, back in college, before Christopher and I had gotten together. It had been in Harry's Bar—a place a lot of college students hung out. The man had grayish- silver skin, I remembered, and the woman was pale with long, blue hair. The two of them had saved me from some guys who drugged my drink and tried to drag me off to do unspeakable things.

At the time, I was sure they were cosplayers—they both had pointed ears and I thought there must be a Lord of the Rings convention in town. But there was something special and otherworldly about them—the same feeling I felt now coming from the people assembled in the clearing.

The two who had saved me had been beautiful, but they didn't have dark platinum skin or glowing eyes like the people I saw in the clearing. These people weren't like anyone I had ever seen outside of a fairytale—or a dream.

A dream—that was where I had seen them before, I suddenly realized! I used to have dreams about people that looked like these every night when I was little—beautiful, enchanted dreams filled with magic and moonlight and floating lights. But it had been so long ago I had completely forgotten about them. Now, standing in the shadows of the forest, they all came rushing back.

Elves, whispered the voice of memory in my ear. They aren't humans—they're Elves!

I knew with absolute certainty that the voice was right—though I didn't know how I knew it. Even though these people didn't look like any Elves that Hollywood had ever portrayed, that was definitely what they were. I also knew something else—they wouldn't call themselves "Elves"—they would refer to their people as "The Fae." Why and how I knew these things, I couldn't say—maybe the knowledge came from my forgotten dreams—but I was absolutely certain I was right.

The Fae were standing around the huge clearing and most of the light was coming from a fire in the center of their circle where flames of gold and blue jumped and flickered. There was a kind of throne at the far end of the circle but it was empty. A smaller chair sat in front of it and a male Fae who looked to be somewhere in his forties or fifties with bluish-purple eyes sat on it. He had flowing white hair like most of the others and there was a self-satisfied expression on his perfect face.

Suddenly another male Fae—this one dressed in a flowing green robe and with glowing green eyes—stepped forward towards the fire and began to speak.

"Lords and Ladies of the Midnight Court," he began, in a warm tenor voice, "Tonight you have all gathered so that we may resolve a dilemma that has troubled us for many seasons. Who shall sit upon the Silver Throne and rule our people, The Dark Fae, now that our beloved King and Queen have both passed beyond The Veil?"

I stared at the Fae as he spoke—he was even more beautiful than most, I thought. Even in the flickering firelight his features were ethereal—he had the face of a fallen angel and his flowing white hair had streaks of gold in it. He also had some unusual tattoos on his pale platinum skin—intricate curving markings of gold on either side of his neck. I couldn't make out what they were supposed to be, but the side I had a better view of looked almost like a spider web. Strange.

I found myself contrasting the Fae who was speaking to the really big Fae—the one who was wearing a metal breastplate and had greenish skin tones. He also had the same markings on his neck—though his tattoos were done in silver ink, not gold. His features, while strong, were more blunt than the other Fae in the clearing, I thought. No one would call him "pretty" or "ethereal." He wasn't ugly—just less androgynously beautiful than the others.

The extremely gorgeous Fae went on talking—he was speaking about how sad they were to have lost both their rulers and how it was time to choose someone else to watch over and guide the Midnight Court.

"But what of the Lost Princess?" the Fae with greenish skin tones asked, stepping forward. "Why should we choose a new ruler now, when one of Royal blood may still be alive?"

The Fae with bluish-purple eyes who was sitting on the chair spoke up.

"The Lost Princess has been gone for nigh on half a century." He had a drawling voice that dripped with contempt. "Why should we continue searching for a babe whom no one has been able to find for so long? Our people need a ruler now."

"We need a ruler who has the blood of Lolth in her veins!" the tall Fae argued. "The Dark Fae have never been ruled by a non-Royal."

The other Fae sat up in his chair, his blue-purple eyes flashing.

"I have Royal blood in my veins, Captain Seldarin, as you well know! My eyes attest to it!"

"The blood in your veins has barely any Royalty, Mordren," the tall Fae argued. "You used it to become our Regent after King Valerin passed, but that doesn't mean you may become the next ruler after him! We should be searching for the Lost Princess—not standing here, about to invest a non-Royal as our next King!"

There was more shouting back and forth after that—I promise I would have listened more closely, but at that moment I saw the source of the amazing scent which had lured me into the forest in the first place. A few yards down on my left was a golden table with curving legs and a glass top. It looked like a kind of buffet had been set up on it because it was absolutely filled with food.

Elaborate pastries…slabs of meat…cakes with multiple layers—they all seemed to call to me. And right in the middle of the table, towards the back where I might be able to reach without anyone seeing, was a mountain of fruit. I saw juicy apples, ripe pears, cascades of grapes and jewel-like berries that seemed to glow from within, as well as lots of things I couldn't even name, though they still looked delicious.

My stomach rumbled hungrily as I stared at the table, everything else forgotten. I hadn't had anything to eat since the stale pack of crackers I'd found in the glove box of the minivan that morning. I was so hungry the pit of my stomach ached and clenched like a fist at the sight of all that food. I had to have some.

Moving as quietly as I could, I began making my way through the trees towards the table. Luckily, I've always been light on my feet, so I managed to get myself right behind a tree that was at the back of the table.

Crouching down, I reached for what I could get—which happened to be a handful of the glowing berries that were right near the edge of the table.

I looked at the berries uncertainly for a moment—they looked kind of like extra large blackberries only they were lit up from within and glowed a soft pink. As hungry as I was, I hesitated to put them in my mouth—what if they were poison? After all, who ever heard of berries that glowed?

But then I caught a whiff of them and realized that this was the source of the amazing strawberries and cream and cinnamon scent that had drawn me into the forest in the first place. Anything that smelled that good couldn't be bad—could it?

I couldn't stop myself—I popped one of the berries into my mouth and nearly moaned in ecstasy. It was delicious. The tiny spheres of light popped on my tongue, releasing the most succulent juices. As good as the berries smelled—they tasted ten, no a hundred times better.

But it wasn't just their amazing flavor that had me gobbling up the handful I had and reaching for more—it was the fact that the berries fed something in me—some hunger that had been there all my life. It felt like they were fulfilling a craving that had been inside me forever—scratching an itch I'd never been able to scratch before. I know it sounds weird, but I can't explain it any better than that.

I finished the second handful and reached for a third, groping carefully along the table, hoping that everyone was directing all their attention to the argument still going on between the tall Fae and the one in the chair who was claiming to be Royal enough to rule.

I was about to put the third handful of berries in my mouth when I realized that one of the glowing dots in my hand wasn't a berry at all—it was one of the fireflies I had seen from my van, dancing in the darkness of the forest.

Only, on closer inspection, I saw that it wasn't a firefly at all—it was a tiny person. A pixie, maybe, with wings that flitted and fluttered as she feasted on one of the berries in my hand.

At least, I thought the pixie was a she—it was a little difficult to tell since she was face-first in the glowing berry which was bigger than she was. She was wearing a kind of slip and a glowing light seemed to come from within her—it was pale blue instead of pink like the berries, which was why I had thankfully noticed it before gobbling her down along with the magical fruit.

I stared in wonder and finally she lifted her head from the berry and seemed to notice me. Her tiny ink-dot eyes widened in fear and for a moment we stared at each other in frozen silence.

Then the fairy launched herself off the pile of berries in my hand and flew up into the air. She began to make a high-pitched, shrieking sound—almost like an alarm.

I froze in fear, my hand clenching tight over the berries which dripped glowing juice that puddled on the ground below me. The argument between the tall Fae and the one in the chair stopped abruptly as all the tiny, glowing pixies took up the call. In less than ten seconds the woods were ringing with their shrill voices.

"An intruder!" the tall one—Captain Seldarin—exclaimed. "There is a spy amongst us—find them!"

I wanted to run, but it was too late—the Fae were pouring into the forest to search. Instead of running, I tried scrambling under the table, hoping the shadows would hide me.

No such luck.

It was Captain Seldarin who found me. He ducked his head to look under the table and our eyes met. I knew he had seen me and I scrambled to get away, trying to scurry into the forest like a wild animal. But he was too quick for me.

"Not so fast!" he growled and one long, muscular arm shot out and grabbed me.

"No! No!" I gasped, kicking and fighting as he dragged me out into the light of the blue and gold fire. My heart was pounding like a drum and my breath was coming short. I was terrified—wishing I could remember even a little of the single self-defense course I'd taken years ago.

I tried to twist away from him but it was no use—his grip on my arm was like iron. He didn't pinch or squeeze me but he didn't let go either—not even when one of my kicks landed squarely in his midsection.

"Feisty little thing, aren't you?" he growled. "Come on—let's see you!"

Before I knew it, he had pulled me to my feet and was dragging me forward into the middle of the circle. The search was called off as the Dark Fae realized that the intruder—me—had been caught. They gathered again in a circle and I could feel hundreds of glowing eyes boring into me from all sides.

I felt sick. I was trapped and there was no getting away from these beautiful, otherworldly beings. What were they going to do to me?

Something told me whatever it was, I wasn't going to like it.