Shadow (Touched by the Fae Book 2) Read online

  Shadow

  Jessica Lynch

  Copyright © 2019 by Jessica Lynch

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Jessica Lynch

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Touch

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  Stay in Touch

  About the Author

  Also by Jessica Lynch

  Foreword

  Shadow is the second book in the Touched by the Fae trilogy. It takes place directly following the end of Asylum, the first book. Events of that book are referenced as Riley’s story continues, and while you can jump right in, it’s not a stand-alone. To get the entire story, all three parts—Asylum, Shadow, and Touch—should be read in order.

  Then there’s also Favor. A prequel that sheds more light on how Nine agreed to be involved in Riley’s life in the first place, the short story is also available—but not necessary—to add to this tale.

  I hope you enjoy part two! Like Asylum, because it’s the second book of a longer story, Shadow ends with a cliffhanger. I’m being totally upfront about that—the conclusion to Riley’s story will finish with the release of the third book. Still, I really want readers to enjoy the ride as we see all the ups and downs of what it’s like to be hunted by the Fae Queen!

  xoxo,

  Jessica

  1

  The slipper mocks me.

  It’s lying on its side in an oily puddle that shimmers in the single sliver of sunlight, the once-white material dotted in mud, streaked with grime. The last I saw it, I’d left it behind me when I was running out of the cemetery, right after I trapped the fae chasing me inside of a mausoleum.

  That was hours ago. Since then, I discovered that I lost a week of my life and, oh yeah, I’m considered a fugitive from the asylum I spent the last six years locked inside. And, since I am a fugitive, instead of asking the police officer in his cruiser for help, I ran away from him, using my memory of Acorn Falls’ back streets to escape.

  It might’ve cost me a busted ankle when I hopped a fence and landed hard on the concrete, but I managed to dodge the cop in time. That was a plus. The downside? He had a partner or something waiting on the other end of the alley. I had to hide—and the only place I could find was beneath a half-open manhole cover.

  You heard that right. Because I had no other choice, I shimmied past the small gap left from where the manhole cover sat crookedly on the ground, then climbed all the way down into the smelly, dank sewer.

  I thought I was safe. I thought that the cops would never think to follow me down here, and that I was out of reach of the fae chasing me.

  Yeah. Right.

  Now I’m huddled in the bottom of a damp, dark—did I mention smelly?—sewer, my ankle throbbing, my heart racing.

  And he’s found me. Rys, the golden fae—the Light Fae—the brilliant, beautiful monster who killed my sister… who works as a guard for the Fae Queen who wants me dead… who offered to protect me if I chose to mate him… he’s found me.

  I can’t pretend otherwise. After he tracked me down to the Acorn Falls cemetery where Madelaine is buried, I let him think that I would allow him to touch me. For any of the fae, there’s power in a touch. All he had to do was brush my cheek—with my permission—and he could take a part of me. My life, my strength, my soul… Rys could feed on a single touch, making him even more powerful than a Seelie already is.

  Of course, I was bluffing. My whole life, I’ve been told over and over again never to let the fae touch me. My guardian and mentor, a Shadow Man who called himself Nine, brainwashed me into keeping my hands to myself. Sure, I might have ended up a bit haphephobic—fear of touch, though it’s not so much fear as just the idea of touching someone else can bring on the mother of all panic attacks if I’m not prepared for it—but at least I’m still alive.

  Madelaine... isn’t.

  It’s my fault, too. One of the only times I forgot how dangerous and ruthless the fae are, my sister paid the price. I burned my hands trying to save her, but I was too late. Madelaine was gone, I blamed the fae, and I found myself being committed to the Black Pine Facility for Wayward Juveniles.

  The fae couldn’t follow me there. For six years, I took my meds, attended my sessions, listened to a revolving door of psychologists and shrinks tell me that Faerie isn’t real.

  Somehow, I believed them.

  Bad idea. Seriously. Without the threat of the fae forever chasing after me, I let down my guard. A couple of days ago—or more, I don’t know where my missing week went—I slipped up and pressed my ruined palm against Rys’s bronzed, perfect hand as we danced. I thought I was dreaming.

  I wasn’t then.

  I’m not now.

  When I kicked the piece of wood that kept the mausoleum door open, it slammed shut, trapping Rys inside. He’s fae, so I didn’t doubt that he’d find a way out eventually, but I thought I had a little more time.

  The slipper tells me otherwise.

  He’s responsible for it. I know he is. I might have been able to shut him in there, but I lost my slipper in the process. It flew off my foot, landing inside the mausoleum a split second before the stone door echoed its slam. I eventually jammed the spare slipper in my hoodie pocket and, as I throw myself back, hiding in the deepest, darkest shadows as my head goes in a hundred different directions at once, I can feel the weight of the slipper’s twin against my queasy belly.

  The sliver of sunlight is the only illumination in the whole sewer. It’s weak, barely enough to let me see more than a foot in front of me, but I don’t need that to be sure that Rys is hiding somewhere.

  I don’t see him. The slipper is here, but he isn’t. At least, not where I can find him.

  I’m too tired for this crap. Tired and, well, I’m just plain over it.

  “Where are you?” I call out.

  “Wherever you want me to be.”

  I jump. My back scrapes against the rocky wall, something cold and wet dripping against my neck as I hit it. I spit out a curse, my hand flying up to wipe the slick of moisture from my skin at the same time as I climb forward on my knees.

  Where is he? Where—

  There.

  Tall, slender, lithe body. Bronze-colored skin, long tawny hair, and a pair of golden eyes that shine like a pair of miniature suns in his shockingly angelic face.

  To my surprise, he’s looking down at me with an indulgent expression. I’d been expecting fury. I still remember his howl of outrage as I shoved him inside the mausoleum and closed him inside. If I ever saw Rys again, I thought he’d want to throttle me for what I did.

  From the heated look he’s giving me, I can tell that he’s got all kinds of plans for the two of us—and throttling me ain’t one of them.

  He tsks, then grins. “Oh, Riley. Do take care of yourself.”

  I glare over at him. It’s hard, since he’s so bright and the sewer is so dark, and I ca
n barely make out the self-satisfied smile tugging on his pouty lips, but I refuse to let him think I’m happy to see him.

  “How did you do that?” I demand.

  “Do what, my love?”

  The denial is immediate. “I’m not your love.”

  “Mmm. Yet, perhaps.” His golden eyes glow so vividly, I have to squint to keep from being further blinded myself. “What did you mean by that anyway? Do what?”

  I wave my hands, gesturing at the space in front of him before shielding my gaze again. “You weren’t here. You weren’t. And then, all of a sudden, you were right next to me. How the hell did you do that?”

  “I could tell you, even teach you the same skill, but…”

  “Yeah?”

  Rys shrugs. “It would cost you.”

  It would. And I can’t afford his price. “No, thanks.”

  “A trade, then?” His voice gentles, like it’s an off-handed suggestion. His expression gives him away, though. At this moment, I could ask for anything and he would give it to me. That kind of power is heady, even if I don’t want anything to do with the Light Fae. “I know I’ll have to earn another touch. I understand the game. But what about a barter?”

  That’s probably worse. A fae can’t lie, I know that much, but the Faerie races are so tricky, he could be telling me the absolute truth—and still be manipulating me.

  Like now. Even though I like to think I know better, I can’t stop myself from saying, “I don’t have anything you want. And a touch is off the table. No way am I letting you get any closer to me.”

  “Fair enough. As for your end, why don’t you let me decide whether you have something that suits me. So, is it a deal? Do we have an agreement?”

  He’s gotta be kidding, right? “No.”

  Rys laughs.

  The sound sends shivers coursing through me.

  “Do you know?” he says cheerfully. “You’re the first soul in more than a century who has said no to me—and now you’ve done it repeatedly. It’s so… so refreshing. Ah, Riley. And you wonder why I desire you as my ffrindau.”

  Forget shivers. My blood runs cold. He can’t possibly think I’ve forgotten what that fancy foreign word means. Soul mate. Madelaine’s killer is still insisting that I’m supposed to be his bride or something like that.

  That’s why he keeps running after me. Chasing behind me. Not because the Fae Queen is making him, but because he’s convinced that me—a human orphan on the run from the asylum—and him—an ageless, mythical creature with powers I can’t understand—are somehow meant to be.

  Yeah, no.

  Not. Gonna. Happen.

  I pull myself up off the nasty sewer floor, backing into the dark shadows so that I’m almost hidden. Rys sees me. The way his unearthly beautiful face follows my every move, it’s impossible to really hide, but I feel better being cloaked in the darkness.

  And, okay, maybe knowing the ladder is right by my hand is a bonus, even if it’s really wishful thinking. I’ve got no shot at beating him up the ladder. I learned long ago that the golden fae is as fast as he is vicious and cruel.

  I have to remember that.

  My hand closes on the rung nearest to me. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “It was obvious. You’re the Shadow.”

  I’m so sick and tired of the two fae telling me that. I don’t want to be this Shadow person, and I’m still not too sure exactly what they expect of me except that I’m “destined” to off the Fae Queen.

  Somehow, I don’t think that that’s what Rys is talking about right now.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The mausoleum. This”—he wrinkles his perfect, perfect nose—“sewer. The pockets call to you. You instinctively search them out. It was only a matter of following them to you. And here I am.”

  I still don’t get it. “What’s a pocket?”

  He waves his hand past me, toward the darker side of the sewer. I mean, the whole thing’s pretty dark. It’s a pit down here. But as he gestures a little further to my right, I suddenly see… something.

  It’s a patch that seems impossibly black, like a spot of starless night that no light can reach.

  That’s just at a quick glance, though. The longer I stare at the patch, the more it seems to change. It sparkles. Shimmers. Gleams.

  Invites.

  I edge closer to it. I don’t even realize that I’ve moved until my glove slips off of the rung when I get too far away from the ladder.

  “That’s right,” Rys says approvingly. “Good sight, my love. I wonder what else those pretty blue eyes can see.”

  Not enough. I can pick him out of the gloom—he gives off enough light just by being Seelie, he’s like a flashlight—but he’s the only thing I can see down here.

  No hope.

  No escape.

  Except for the shadow. For some weirdo reason, it calls to me. I can’t think of a reason not to listen.

  Especially since Rys hasn’t made a move to follow me.

  I know I’m right when he says, “I’m sure you won’t mind if I stay over here. The pockets belong to the Cursed Ones.” He turns sharply, spitting behind him, then swivels back before I can take another step. “They make shadow travel between the worlds possible for the Dark Fae, so they belong to the moon and her ilk. For one of my kind, they’re almost as bad as iron.”

  That… actually makes sense to me.

  During those nights when I was little, when Nine was still the Shadow Man who spent hours telling me about Faerie and why I should never, ever let the fae touch me, he went to great lengths to impress how powerful the fae are. With their glamour and their charm, they could look like anyone, convince anyone to do just about anything.

  However, from Nine’s lessons, I also learned that the fae do have a weakness. Two of them actually—now three, if I count how carefully Rys stays away from the darkness.

  One is that they can’t lie. Tricky and manipulative, Nine warned that any fae worth his pointy ears could find a way around having to always tell the truth. So it was a weakness, but not a fatal one.

  The other, though? Iron. And there isn’t anything they could do about that.

  I guess, for the Light Fae, the dark shadows leech their power and their strength just like iron does to any of the faerie kind. But if the Dark Fae use the shadows to their advantage, what about the Light Fae? What makes them stronger?

  As if he can read my mind, Rys finally moves forward. No. Not move. He… he glides, almost as if he’s floating. Unlike Nine, he doesn’t wear a long coat that hides most of his body. Rys—going with the whole Light Fae, Blessed Ones thing—is all decked out in white, a stark contrast against his darker skin. His shirt is tight around his torso, long sleeves billowing as he steps gracefully toward me.

  He pauses when only a few feet exist between us. I let out the breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding since he started to move in my direction. Even though he just told me that the portal is harmful to a Light Fae, he can’t stay away.

  Part of me wishes he would—but a secret desire has me hoping he’d come closer.

  I’m so freaking tired of being alone. He’s proven that he’s willing to do whatever he has to to get whatever he wants—me—and I haven’t forgotten that. I haven’t.

  But he’s here. And, for the moment at least, I’m okay with that.

  He smiles. It’s a gorgeous grin, his pouty lips split just enough that I can see his blindingly white teeth peeking through the gap. Lifting his hand, I flinch back from him.

  Only he isn’t reaching for me.

  “The Dark Fae love their shadows.” Rys sticks his hand into the weak light streaming down from up above. His whole form goes from a pale golden color to a vivid bronze. “As you can see, my people are drawn to the light.”

  “What… what did you just do?” I whisper.

  “I’m a Light Fae. Seelie. I can walk in the sun, take strength from its warmth and its shine. I can’t move in the darkness,
but so long as there’s a hint of light, I can travel anywhere between the human world and Faerie.”

  So that’s how he did it. How he found me in the sewer, and how he followed me into the mausoleum.

  That sucks. I mean, seriously.

  If all it takes is sunlight for him to come after me, I won’t be safe unless I resign myself to absolute darkness. Otherwise, I’ll never truly be able to escape any of the Seelie—including Rys.

  The shadows are keeping him at bay. For how long, though? Back in the mausoleum, he wasn’t about to cross the line between the sunlight and the way too dark depths of the musty building. He would’ve. I’m absolutely sure of that—it’s why I had to fight back and run before he gave in to the urge.

  Just like he’s doing right now.

  Rys holds out his hand. He looms in front of me, close enough that he’s all I see, with just enough distance that I know I’m safe from his touch.

  For now.

  I gulp.

  I’ll never make it up the ladder in time. Still, I think I’ve got to try when my body bows back, desperate to avoid the slightest graze of his fingertip.

  His smile is one part invitation, one part threat, as he purrs, “Come with me, Riley.”

  I’m so distracted by his nearness, by the way his golden eyes seem to burn their way straight to my soul, it takes me a second to understand what he said.

  Come with me.

  “What?” I’m surprised he’d try that again, I don’t even tell him no straight off. When will he finally get it? “Go with you? Where?”

  “To Faerie, of course. You belong with the fae. You belong with me.”

  Oh, no, no.

  I most definitely don’t.