The Lost Prince (The Iron Fey: Call of the Forgotten #1)

The Lost Prince (The Iron Fey: Call of the Forgotten #1) Page 5

As I was finishing a pattern, I caught a flash of movement from the corner of my eye and turned. Something black and spindly, like a giant spider with huge ears, crouched on the windowsill outside, watching me. Its eyes glowed electric green in the coming darkness.

I growled a curse and started forward, but when the creature realized I’d spotted it, it let out an alarmed buzz and blinked out of sight. Yanking up the window, I peered into the darkness, searching for the slippery little nuisance, but it was gone.

“Damn gremlins,” I muttered. Stepping back, I glared around my room, making sure everything was in place. I checked my lights, my clock, my computer; they all still worked, much to my relief. The last time a gremlin had been in my room, it had shorted out my laptop, and I’d had to spend my own money to get it fixed.

Gremlins were a special type of faery. They were Iron fey, which meant all my precautions and protections from the faery world didn’t work on them. Iron didn’t faze them, salt barriers didn’t keep them out, and horseshoes over doors and windows did nothing. They were so used to the human world, so integrated with metal and science and technology, that the old charms and protection rituals were too outdated to affect them at all. I rarely had problems with Iron fey, but they were everywhere. I guessed even the Iron Queen couldn’t keep track of them all.

The Iron Queen. A knot formed in my stomach. Shutting the window, I put my sticks away and dropped into the computer chair. For several minutes, I stared at the very top drawer of my desk, knowing what was inside. Wondering if I should torment myself further by taking it out.

Meghan. Do you even think of us anymore? I’d seen my half sister only a few times since she’d disappeared from our world nearly twelve years ago. She never stayed long; just a few hours to make sure everyone was okay, and then she was gone again. Before we moved, I could at least count on her to show up for my birthday and holidays. As I got older, those visits grew fewer and fewer. Eventually, she’d disappeared altogether.

Leaning forward, I yanked open the drawer. My long-lost older sister was another taboo subject in this household. If I so much as spoke her name, Mom would become depressed for a week. Officially, my sister was dead. Meghan wasn’t part of this world anymore; she was one of Them, and we had to pretend she didn’t exist.

But that half-breed knew about her. That could be trouble. As if I needed any more, as if being the delinquent, broody, don’t-let-your-daughter-date-this-hooligan wasn’t enough, now someone knew about my connection to the world of Faery.

Setting my jaw, I slammed the drawer shut and left the room, my thoughts swirling in a chaotic, sullen mess. I was human, and Meghan was gone. No matter what some half-breed faery said, I didn’t belong to that world. I was going to stay on this side of the Veil and not worry about what was happening in Faery.

No matter how much it tried to drag me in.

Chapter Three

Faeries in the Gym Bag

Day two.

Of purgatory.

My “fight” with the school quarterback and my discussion in the principal’s office hadn’t gone unnoticed, of course. Fellow students stared at me in the halls, whispering to their friends, muttering in low undertones. They shied away from me as if I had the plague. Teachers gave me the evil eye, as if worried that I might punch someone in the head or pull a knife, maybe. I didn’t care. Maybe Principal Hill had told them what had gone on in his office; maybe he’d told them I was a lost cause, because as long as I kept my head down, they ignored me.

Except for Miss Singer, who actually called on me several times during class, making sure I was still paying attention. I answered her questions about Don Quixote in monotones, hoping that would be enough to keep her off my back. She seemed pleasantly surprised that I’d read the homework assignment the night before, despite being somewhat distracted by the thoughts of gremlins lurking around my computer. Apparently satisfied that I could listen and stare out the window at the same time, Miss Singer finally left me alone, and I went back to brooding in peace.

At least Kingston and his flunky were absent today, though I did notice Todd in one of my classes, looking smug. He kept glancing at the quarterback’s empty desk, smirking to himself and nodding. It made me nervous, but I swore not to get involved. If the half-breed wanted to screw around with the notoriously fickle Fair Ones, I wasn’t going to be there when he got burned.

When the last bell rang, I gathered my backpack and rushed out, hoping to evade a repeat of the day before. I saw Todd as I went out the door, watching me as if he wanted to talk, but I quickly lost myself in the crowded hallway.

At my locker, I stuffed my books and homework into my pack, slammed the door—and came face-to-face with Kenzie St. James.

“Hey, tough guy.”

Oh, no. What did she want? Probably to tear me a new one about the fight; if she was on the pom squad, Kingston was likely her boyfriend. Depending on which rumor you’d heard, I had either sucker-punched the quarterback or I’d threatened him in the hallway and had gotten my ass kicked before the teachers pulled us apart. Neither story was flattering, and I’d been wondering when someone would give me crap about it. I just hadn’t expected it to be her.

I turned to leave, but she smoothly moved around to block my path. “Just a second!” she insisted, planting herself in front of me. “I want to talk to you.”

I glared at her, a cold, hostile stare that had given redcaps pause and made a pair of spriggans back down once. Kenzie didn’t move, her determined stance never wavering. I slumped in defeat. “What?” I growled. “Come to warn me to leave your boyfriend alone if I know what’s good for me?”

She frowned. “Boyfriend?”

“The quarterback.”

“Oh.” She snorted, wrinkling her nose. It was kind of cute. “Brian’s not my boyfriend.”

“No?” That was surprising. I’d been so sure she was going to rip into me about the fight, maybe threaten to make me sorry if I hurt her precious football star. Why else would this girl want to talk to me?

Kenzie took advantage of my surprise and stepped closer. I swallowed and resisted the urge to step back. Kenzie was shorter than me by several inches, but that fact seemed completely lost on her. “Don’t worry, tough guy. I don’t have a boyfriend waiting to slug you in the bathrooms.” Her eyes sparkled. “If it comes to that, I’ll slug you myself.”

I didn’t doubt she’d try. “What do you want?” I asked again, more and more perplexed by this strange, cheerful girl.

“I’m the editor for the school paper,” she announced, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “And I was hoping you would do me a favor. Every semester, I interview the new students who started late, you know, so people can get to know them better. I’d love to do an interview with you, if you’re up for it.”

For the second time in thirty seconds, I was thrown. “You’re an editor?”

“Well, more of a reporter, really. But since everyone else hates the technical stuff, I do the editing, too.”

“For the paper?”

“That is generally what reporters report for, yes.”

“But…I thought…” I gave myself a mental shake, collecting my scattered thoughts. “I saw you with the pom squad,” I said, and it was almost an accusation. Kenzie’s slender eyebrows rose.

“And, what? You thought I was a cheerleader?” She shrugged. “Not my thing, but thank you for thinking so. Heights and I don’t really get along very well, and I can barely walk across the gym floor without falling down and bruising myself. Plus, I’d have to dye my hair blond, and that would just fry the ends.”

I didn’t know if she was serious or joking, but I couldn’t stay. “Look, I have to be somewhere soon,” I told her, which wasn’t a lie; I had class tonight with my kali instructor, Guro Javier, and if I was late I’d have to do fifty pushups and a hundred suicide dashes—if he was feeling generous. Guro was serious about punctuality. “Can we talk later?”

“Will you give me that interview?”

“Okay, yes, fine!” I raised a hand in frustration. “If it will get you off my back, fine.”

She beamed. “When?”

“I don’t care.”

That didn’t faze her. Nothing did, it seemed. I’d never met someone who could be so relentlessly cheerful in the face of such blatant jack-assery. “Well, do you have a phone number?” she continued, sounding suspiciously amused. “Or, I could give you mine, if you want. Of course, that means you’d actually have to call me....” She gave me a dubious look, then shook her head. “Hmm, never mind, just give me yours. Something tells me I could tattoo my number on your forehead and you wouldn’t remember to call.”

“Whatever.”

As I scribbled the digits on a scrap of paper, I couldn’t help but think how weird it was, giving my phone number to a cute girl. I’d never done this before and likely never would again. If Kingston knew, if he even saw me talking to her, girlfriend or not, he’d probably try to give me a concussion.

Kenzie stepped beside me and stood on tiptoe to peer over my shoulder. Soft, feathery strands of her hair brushed my arm, making my skin prickle and my heart pound. I caught a hint of apple or mint or some kind of sweet fragrance, and for a second forgot what I was writing.

“Um.” She leaned even closer, one slender finger pointing to the messy black scrawl on the paper. “Is this a six or a zero?”

“It’s a six,” I rasped, and stepped away, putting some distance between us. Damn, my heart was still pounding. What the hell was that about?

I handed over the paper. “Can I go now?”

She tucked it into the pocket of her jeans with another grin, though for just a moment she looked disappointed. “Don’t let me stop you, tough guy. I’ll call you later tonight, okay?”

Without answering, I stepped around her, and this time, she let me.