of.” She nodded, sniffling. Bet that’s attractive. She tried to pull away.
“So, that’s a good place to start.” He wrapped one arm tighter around her and leaned over to pick a notebook and pen up off the floor. Propping the notebook on her knee, he held the pen poised over it. With a reassuring smile, he prompted, “Tell me. We’ll figure it out. Talk to some people. Check out the police blotter.”
“Police blotter?”
“Sure. Find out more about them.” He gave her a reassuring look. “Ask Rabbit down at the tat shop. He hears everything. We find out who they are. Then we take care of it.”
“There’s not going to be anything in the blotter. Not on these two.” Aislinn smiled at the idea of faeries’ crimes being reported in the blotter. They’d need a whole section of the daily paper just for faery crimes, especially in the safe neighborhoods: the upscale homes were in greener areas, outside the safety of steel frames and bridges.
“So we use other routes.” He pushed her hair away from her face, wiping a tear off her cheek in the process. “Seriously, I’m a research god. Give me a clue, and I’ll find something we can use. Blackmail, deal, whatever. Maybe they’re wanted for something. If not, maybe they’re breaking a law. Harassment or something. That’s a crime, right? If not, there’s people Rabbit knows.”
Aislinn disentangled herself from his arms and went over to the sofa. Boomer barely stirred when she sat down next to him. Too cold. She shivered. It’s always too cold. She stroked his skin while she thought. Seth hasn’t ever told anyone about Mom or anything. He can be careful.
Seth sat back and crossed his ankles, waiting.
She stared at the worn vintage T he had on—damp from her tears now; the peeling white letters proclaimed: PIXIES. Maybe it’s a sign. She’d thought about it so often, imagined telling him.
He looked expectantly at her.
She wiped her cheeks again. “Okay.”
When she didn’t say anything else, he crooked one glittering eyebrow and prompted her again, “Ash?”
“Right.” She swallowed and said, as calmly as she could, “Faeries. Faeries are stalking me.”
“Faeries?”
“Faeries.” She pulled her legs up to sit cross-legged on the sofa. Boomer lifted his head to look at her, his tongue flicking out, and slid farther onto her lap.
Seth picked up his tea and took a drink.
She’d never told anyone before. It was one of Grams’ unbreakable rules: Never know who’s listening. Never know when They are hiding nearby.
Aislinn’s heart thudded. She could feel herself getting nauseous. What did I do? But she wanted him to know, wanted someone to talk to.
Aislinn took several calming breaths and added, “Two of them. They’ve been following me for a couple of weeks.”
Carefully, as if he were moving in slow motion, Seth leaned forward, sitting on the edge of his chair, almost close enough to touch. “You messing with me?”
“No.” She bit her lip and waited.
Boomer slithered closer, dragging the front of his body up over her chest. Absently she stroked his head.
Seth poked at the ring in his lip, a stalling gesture, the way some people lick their lips in tense conversations. “Like little winged people?”
“No. Like our size and terrifying.” She tried to smile, but it didn’t work. Her chest hurt, like someone had kicked her. She was breaking the rules she’d lived by, her mother had lived by, her Grams, everyone in her family for so long.
“How do you know they’re faeries?”
“Never mind.” She looked away. “Just forget—”
“Don’t do that.” His voice had a bite of frustration in it. “Talk to me.”
“And say what?”
He stared at her as he answered, “Say you’ll trust me. Say you’ll let me in for real, finally.”
She didn’t answer, didn’t know what to say. Sure, she’d kept things from him, but she kept things from everyone. That was just the way it was.
He sighed. Then he put on his glasses and held the pen poised over the notebook. “Right. Tell me what you know. What do they look like?”
“You won’t be able to see them.”
He paused again. “Why?”
She didn’t look away this time. “They’re invisible.”
Seth didn’t answer.
For a moment they just sat there, quietly staring at each other. Her hand stilled on Boomer as she waited, but the boa didn’t move away.
Finally Seth started writing. Then he looked up. “What else?”
“Why? Why are you doing this?”
Seth shrugged, but his voice wasn’t nonchalant when he answered, “Because I want you to trust me? Because I want you to stop looking so haunted? Because I care about you?”
“Say you do go research. What if they…I don’t know, hurt you? Attack you?” She knew how awful they could be even if he didn’t—couldn’t—get it.
“For going to the library?” He crooked his eyebrow again.
She was still trying to get her head together, to find a line between begging him to really believe her and telling him she wasn’t serious. She pushed Boomer off her onto the sofa cushion and stood up.
“You see them hurt anyone?”
“Yes,” she started, but she stopped herself. She paced over to the window. Three faeries lingered outside, not doing anything, but undeniably there. Two of them were almost human-looking, but the third was as far from human as they got—too big and covered in dark tufts of fur, like a bear that walked upright. She looked away and shuddered. “Not these two but…I don’t know. Faeries grope people, trip them, pinch them. Stupid stuff usually. Sometimes it’s worse, though. A lot worse. You don’t want to get involved.”
“I do want to. Trust me, Ash. Please?” Half smiling then, he added, “And I don’t mind being groped. Perks for helping.”
“You should. Faeries are…” She shook her head again. He was joking about it. “You can’t see what they look like.”
Without meaning to, she pictured Keenan. Blushing, she stammered, “Most of them are pretty horrible.”
“Not all of them, though?” Seth asked quietly, not smiling anymore.
“Most of them”—she looked back at the three faeries outside, unwilling to look at Seth when she admitted it—“but no, not all of
