Ballad: A Gathering of Faerie

“I don’t want to forget this—that because I fell in love with you, I didn’t kill you,” Nuala said. Her voice was funny; it was hard for her to say what she was saying. “You don’t have to say anything. I know you’re in love with stupid, selfish Ungirlfriend and not me. That’s okay. I just—”

I leaned forward and kissed her. I know I took her by surprise because her lips were still forming a word when my lips touched them. My skin tightened with cold, just a little, as I kissed her, but no goose bumps.

I leaned back into my own chair and closed my eyes. Opened them again. Sucked in my lower lip, that tasted all of summer and Nuala, and pushed it back out again.

Nuala looked back at me.

“Was that okay?” I asked.

Her voice was so incredibly casual that I knew she had to be working hard to make it so. “It was a good kiss. I mean, don’t flatter yourself, it wasn’t the best kiss the world has ever seen, but—”

“Was it okay to kiss you,” I said. I said it really slowly and carefully, because I was trying to work it out for myself too.

Nuala just stared at me, and I stared back at her. Then she carefully unfolded my fingers from hers and pulled her knees away from my knees, and stood up. She stared at me some more from her vantage point above me, her blonde hair falling all around her face as she looked down on me like a killer angel. I just looked back at her, and I was looking so hard that I forgot to think about what my expression was.

Nuala climbed very slowly into my chair and sat down on my lap, her smooth, summer-scented legs curled up on either side of me. Holy freaking hell. I was still trying to maintain some control over my brain when she reached out and picked up my arms, one at a time, and linked them around behind her body.

Finally, she leaned toward me with a private, wicked smile on her face that turned me on like nothing ever had.

And she kissed me.

I think you might go to hell for making out with a faerie.

I kissed her back.

I woke up a second before I heard her voice.

“Wake up!” Nuala’s voice was right in my ear. “Someone’s outside.”

I opened my eyes. My right leg was asleep because Nuala was on top of it, smashed beside me in the most comfortable chair in the world. “Hell,” I hissed at her. “My leg’s all pins and needles.”

Nuala slid from my lap, landing noiselessly beside the chair, and looked down at her hand, her face surprised when she realized I still held her fingers. I used her weight to pull myself out of the chair and grimaced as my prickly foot hit the ground. I couldn’t hear anything.

What are we doing?

Nuala’s voice was barely audible. “I want to listen.”

We walked hand in hand toward the back doors. Well, Nuala walked. I limped and felt stupid for it. We stopped just on the other side of the doors, cloaked in warm darkness, standing several feet apart but still holding hands tightly. Like we were playing Red Rover, waiting for something to bust through the door and try to break through our defenses.

Now I heard what Nuala had.

Sullivan.

There were two voices outside the door, and one of them was unmistakably Sullivan: precise and savage. “ … want to know what business you have here. In the middle of the night right outside the dorms.”

The other voice was lofty, female, and somehow very familiar. “I was camping. I couldn’t sleep so I decided to walk into town.”

“Like hell you did. I saw you set the thyme on fire. I know what that does. You think I don’t know something’s going on here?”

Nuala leaned over swiftly to whisper right into my ear, her lips pressed up against my skin to keep her words from getting to anyone else. “I’ve heard her voice before. She’s been killing solitary fey.”

I didn’t have time to wonder at the idea that both Nuala and I found her voice familiar; the conversation on the other side of the door was still going.

“I think you probably think you’re a lot cleverer than you are,” the female voice said. I could almost place it, just from the condescension that dripped from it. “But you don’t really know anything. I think you should let go of my arm before I get really angry and decide to tell the cops something very unfavorable about you.”

Nuala looked at me. “Human,” she whispered.

“Oh, ma’am,” Sullivan’s voice was twenty degrees below zero. “You do not want to threaten me. I have seen so much worse than you.” A pause; scuffling. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what you were doing summoning Them right behind my kids’ dorm. Don’t give me any bullshit about camping or herbal research, either. I know. I know.”

“It’s not any of your business. If you know anything about Them, you know that you’re better off if you don’t put your nose where it might be cut off.”

Delia, I thought suddenly, and Nuala frowned at me, not recognizing the name. Dee’s aunt. I recognize her voice now. The faeries saved her life a long time ago, and she’s been helping Them ever since.

Nuala’s eyebrows arched sharply.

“Don’t tell me what I’m better off doing. I’ve given up the last two years of my life to make sure these kids don’t have to go through what I did.” Sullivan’s voice was a growl. “But all that time, I never thought I’d have to worry about a human. Tell. Me. Why are you here?”

Delia’s voice was frigid. “Fine. I was just using the music here to help me summon one of the daoine sidhe. One of them owes me a favor.”

“I must look extremely gullible to you.”

“You look very fragile to me, actually.” A long pause, and I wondered what filled it on the other side of the door. “You look like someone who has a lot to lose, and I know individuals who would be happy to help you lose it.”

Sullivan sounded grim. “You are sadly mistaken. I am delightfully unhindered by the attachments and accumulated possessions of most humans, thanks to your friends. I can, however, make you extremely uncomfortable if you don’t start telling me why you’re here.”

“I’m doing favors for the new queen,” Delia snapped. “Their politics. Things they can’t manage themselves.”

“New queen?” Sullivan’s voice sounded thin. “Eleanor?”

My heart stopped. Why did Sullivan know her name?

“Yes, Eleanor. I scratch her back and she scratches mine.”

Sullivan’s voice was strained. “Why is she here?”