The café bell almost broke off when Cress barged in. Kate dropped the chalkboard she was hanging on the wall. The chalk rolled across the floor and bumped into Cress’s boot and the board hit the floor with a clang.
“Where is he? Did he come back here?!” Cress asked through a strained growl that reminded Kate of a struck puppy. She abandoned the chalkboard.
“Who?”
“Mor!” Cress shouted his name. It echoed through the café.
“He hasn’t come back yet. I thought you were with him.” Kate picked up the chalk at his feet and stood.
A body materialized beside her.
Her throat was grabbed, and everything after that happened too fast.
Kate gasped as she was rushed backward across the room and slammed against the kitchen wall, rattling the artwork above. A dark-haired fae stood over her with glossy, silvery eyes. His pale fingers tightened around her neck.
“Human,” he whispered in a soft voice. “You will be the price he pays.”
“Bonswick!” Cress shouted by the door.
The fae vanished. He reappeared behind Kate with his fingers still holding her throat, bringing Cress to a halt. A sharp pain touched Kate’s side, and her wide eyes fell to a blade pointed at her waist.
“I think we need to lay down some rules in regard to our bargain,” the dark-haired fae said.
Cress’s turquoise eyes were pinned on the spot where the fae’s blade was ready to drive through Kate’s side. “I did not send Mor to you,” Cress swore. “Let her go.”
“Yet, he came.” The fae tilted his head so it brushed against Kate’s hair. “You for them, Prince. That was the bargain. But they cannot attack me, or approach me, or even speak to me anymore. Or she will be the price.”
Cress swallowed. His hand wrapped his sword handle, but the blade didn’t form. “I agree to your terms. Just let her—”
“What bargain?” Kate asked from a dry throat.
Cress looked at her face for the first time.
The fae chuckled in her ear. “You’ll be left without a mate soon, Human. How agonizing that will be for you, now that you’ve bonded,” he said, and Cress paled. “He’s always been a cruel, heartless prince in the North, but I never expected him to hurt a weak human like this. To leave you in eternal pain. That is possibly the most heartless thing he’s ever done in his cursed life.”
“That will not happen. Her feelings aren’t fierce enough for that.” Cress’s sword appeared from its handle. “You should have sensed as much with your astute intuition.”
From the corner of her eye, Kate saw a body drift from the kitchen.
“Wait, Dranian!” Cress held up a hand, and the fae behind Kate flinched.
She dared a glance over at Dranian. He held a silver blade against the fae’s jaw.
“Careful, Prince,” the fae said with a diabolical smile. “You can’t protect her, remember? And what’s worse? To watch your forever mate die, or to walk to your own dreadful death? Or both?”
“Leave before I drown our bargain in your fairy blood.” Cress sounded like he was half threatening, half begging.
A deep laugh boomed in Kate’s ears. The fae released her neck, and suddenly the warm body disappeared from her back.
Cress strode over and took Kate’s chin. He tilted her head, looking over her neck everywhere the fae’s hand had been. “There’s no death touch anywhere,” he seemed to be telling Dranian. “She’ll live for now.”
Dranian marched to the windows and peered both ways down the street. Neither of them explained what had just happened—why it had happened.
“Cress,” Kate pulled his hand off her face, “what bargain?”
Cress avoided her gaze. She waited for an answer, but all he said was, “This isn’t something that concerns humans.”
Kate drew back. She was about to point out how wrong he was—that she’d just had a knife aimed at her side—when two bodies materialized in the middle of the café, knocking over a chair, and Kate’s stomach dropped.
The dark-haired fae was back. He tossed Mor forward. Mor’s hands were bound, his face was bruised, and a muzzle of fabric was tight in his mouth.
The dark-haired fae said, “I will walk out of this realm unscathed, with you, or they’re all dead. This is your only warning.”
Kate bit back a whimper as Mor looked up through a swollen eye.
The dark-haired fae vanished again.
Dranian tore Mor’s muzzle off, and Mor spat a flat metal medallion to the floor. He gasped, his breathing moist and strained as Cress kicked the medallion away like it was poisonous. It skidded over to where Kate was paralyzed by the wall.
“What in the name of the sky deities happened?” Dranian demanded.
“Don’t ask him questions. He can’t speak,” Cress said. He stared at Mor with a mix of expressions as Mor’s raspy breathing filled the café.
Kate carefully picked up the medallion from the floor. A set of wings were carved into it, similar to the picture on Cress’s sword, and a pin was on the back like it was supposed to be fastened to a jacket.
Dranian strode to the kitchen, and the freezer door slammed. He returned with a bag of ice and handed it to Cress who took hold of Mor’s chin. “Show me,” Cress commanded.
Mor slowly let his tongue out, revealing dark burns and blisters. Cress carefully touched the ice to it. Mor seemed to fight a reaction, but he made no noise.
Shayne burst into the café gripping his crossbow. He took one look at Mor, snarled, and stormed back out to the street. His white hair disappeared past the windows.
Cress instructed in a quiet voice, “Stop him.”
Dranian left.
Even though Mor’s curls were a mess, his eyes watery, and his tongue destroyed, he glared.
Finally, Cress glared back.
“If you ever try to trade yourself for me again, I will kill you on my own, you fool,” he promised. He grabbed Mor’s hand and dropped the ice into it.
Mor lifted the ice to his mouth in silence.
Cress picked up his sword handle as he stood. He marched past Kate to the apartment stairs without so much as a glance, and he disappeared into the stairwell.
Kate slid the medallion into her pocket and moved for the sink. She filled a glass with water. When she carried it over to Mor, he was staring off through the window.
“I don’t know what happened,” Kate said, her eyes glossy, her mouth pinching together. “But please don’t ever do that again.”
Mor accepted the water. He brought it carefully to his parched, cracked lips, and he sipped, wincing as it drained into his mouth.
Kate looked back at the stairs where Cress had left.
A bargain.
“You for them, Prince. That was the bargain.”
Cress was unapproachable for days. He and Mor cast each other glances when they thought no one was looking. Mor remained silent, but his sweep strokes turned into long, rigid movements that flung dirt against the walls when he wasn’t paying attention. For the first time, Dranian appeared to be the happiest fae at Fae Café, which was saying something.
Kate caught the fae gathering around the bistro tables late at night, pulling out notes and pages torn from books. They argued, they got angry, they broke chairs—only to have them fixed again before morning—and they planned. But they never told her why.
They all went quiet when she drew close, so she started leaving the café as soon as it closed each night, and she stayed up in her apartment where Shayne had strictly instructed her to live again from now on.
The tension seemed to drain a little after a few days. Mor started rasping out short answers to questions and Shayne was becoming himself, blowing kisses to customers and drawing clever pictures on the chalk board. Usually he drew coffee, cookies, or cake, but sometimes his drawings were unfathomably inappropriate, and Kate had to scrub them off in the morning before customers came in.
Kate caught the assassins chuckling about something in her apartment on Sunday afternoon when the café was closed. It was the first bout of laughter she’d heard in days. She listened through the door for a few minutes before pushing her way in.
Greyson was there. Her brother slid a heaping plate of hot dogs over the counter toward Cress, Mor, Shayne, and Dranian sitting at the island chairs.
Cress picked one up and jiggled it. “What is in this meat tube, exactly?” he asked with a peculiar face.
Greyson chuckled. “You don’t wanna know.” He stuffed half of his own hot dog into his mouth. “Are you sure you don’t want a bun?” he asked through the mouthful. His hotdogs were the only ones with buns.
“We don’t eat that poison.” Cress nodded toward the open bag of hotdog buns on the counter, and Greyson nodded.
“Ahh, you’re doing the gluten-free thing. Cool.”
The rest of the fae lifted their naked hot dogs and began taking cautious bites; Shayne dragged his through ketchup first.
“Mmm.” Shayne nodded. “This is good. I like human food,” he said.
Greyson laughed like Shayne was making a joke. He shoved the rest of the hot dog into his mouth and reached for another, and Kate wondered if she should tell Greyson that Shayne hadn’t been making a joke.
She came to the counter. Cress’s gaze darted to her without the coldness that had kept her on edge all week.
A second later, the Prince went back to eating and reached for the ketchup. After heaping a puddle onto his plate, he tipped the bottle over and squeezed some onto Dranian’s plate, too. A lob fell on Dranian’s leg, and the auburn-haired fae scowled. Cress cracked a smile that warmed the layer of frost in Kate’s chest.
The apartment door swung open and banged against the wall.
“I got sweaters for the party!” Lily hauled a thrift store bag into the room. She carried it to the kitchenette and dropped it on the counter, knocking over the mustard. The first sweater she pulled out was a forest green knit with a reindeer and a red button for a nose. She threw it at Greyson, who lit up and held the oversized garment up to his shoulders.
Lily tossed sweaters at each of the fae, then tossed one to Kate. Kate ran her fingers over the yarn. She hadn’t told Lily yet about anything that had happened since Grandma Lewis’s funeral. She was too worried about what Lily might do if she found out about the Shadow Fairies and what they did to Mor. Lily was under the impression Mor had just burned his mouth on coffee.
“Mine isn’t ugly at all,” Kate said when she held hers up.
“Then trade me, Human,” Cress said. He turned his around to reveal an oversized brown thing with wood toggles and a patch over the chest pocket that said: SANTA’S HELPER. “Mine is hideous.”
“It’s supposed to be ugly. It’s an Ugly Christmas Sweater Party,” Lily said.
Cress eyed Lily doubtfully. “Who’s Santa? And why must I help him?” he asked.
“I am not an elf!” Dranian stood from his seat, red cheeked. His sweater dangled from his fist, and he shoved it back toward Lily.
“What’s the problem?” Lily opened it to see, and Cress, Shayne, and Mor burst out laughing. Shayne even threw his head back and roared.
“It’s insulting!” Dranian growled.
Lily made a face. “It just says ‘Christmas Elf’. What’s so bad about that?”
“I’m not wearing it.”
“Fine.” Lily put her hands on her hips. “You can show up wearing nothing then.”
“Careful, Human. He might do that,” Cress warned.
“Mine is awesome,” Greyson said, pulling his on over his hoodie. “I’m wearing this sledding tomorrow.”
“Sledding? What is that?” Dranian mumbled in what seemed like a pathetic attempt to change the subject.
“It’s where crazy humans hop on speeding boards and plummet down a hill,” Kate said. “It’s actually fun.” She didn’t add that it would also be the perfect distraction from all that had happened.
“You guys can come. I’m going with Lincoln and Tegan in the morning,” Greyson said before taking another bite of his hotdog.
“We try not to leave here if we don’t have to.” Shayne folded his arms and stole an odd look at Cress across the counter. But then he added with a grin, “Our human bosses are mean.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “I’m taking your sweater back,” she threatened, almost smiling.
“I’ll go with you,” Kate told Greyson.
Cress’s gaze darted over to her, landing heavy and warm. It looked like he was about to object, but he said, “I’ll come, too.”
“Cool.” Greyson launched into a story about how he and Lincoln had built the world’s biggest sandcastle in Florida and how they planned to build an even bigger castle out of snow. But the voices in Kate’s apartment seemed to fade when seconds passed, and Cress didn’t look away.
Kate didn’t look away, either.
After she’d found out about the bargain, Kate had tried to convince herself she’d be fine with her life once Cress was gone. But deep down she knew she would never be fine with letting him go back to that place to meet such a terrible fate.
She dropped her stare first and studied her socks as it dawned on her all over again.
Her pretend boyfriend. Maybe not so pretend after all.
Silver bells threaded along the Yarn & Stitch door, and piles of snow littered the windowsills. The light melody of a Christmas carol drifted through the street from a shop down the road, and cars rumbled by with drivers entirely unaware of the mythical creatures huddled together knitting inside the yarn store.
Kate adjusted her pink sweater beneath her coat as she went in. Tea and tarts filled the table between the couches, steam coiling from the pot in waves. Kate kicked the snow off her boots, and all the knitting fae women lifted their heads.
“Ah.” Freida set her porcelain teacup on her lap. Her makeup and dazzling earrings were gone again. “My fairy goddaughter. It’s been a while, Kate Kole.”
“I haven’t been avoiding you on purpose,” Kate said as she shucked her coat and hung it on one of the hooks. She sat down beside Hazel and was about to explain when Hazel made a horrified face and scooted away.
“She smells of male fairy assassins!”
There were a few gasps, and some of the other women inched away, too.
“Yeah… well… that’s why I didn’t come back until now,” Kate admitted.
“Yuck!” Hazel plugged her nose. Then, with a nasally voice, she added, “And her tone is giving off… heartache. She feels strong heartache, too.” Hazel glanced over at Freida, who watched and listened to it all.
Gretchen stabbed her needles into her yarn ball. “Did you forget that Prince attacked us, Human? That he would have killed us all if he could have? And you’ve gotten cozy with that heartless blood spiller,” she said in her high voice.
“Did you forget that you led him here?!” Hazel added, and Freida lifted a hand.
“The human did not lead him here. Our own fairy yarn did. Let’s not blame Kate Kole for a thing she didn’t do,” the old woman said.
Kate cleared her throat and settled deeper into the couch. “He hasn’t attacked you since, though. There’s a reason for that.”
“We already know,” Freida said. She picked up her yarn and began to knit again. “I sensed the fairy crush weeks ago, remember? I can hear it in your tone now, too. That’s a dangerous game to play, Kate Kole. You should never fall for a fairy. And you should never allow a fairy to fall for you.”
Kate folded her hands. “I need your help,” she said.
“Yes, that’s obvious,” Freida said. She slid her needles from the yarn, tied the ends of her work, then held up her masterpiece: a long red scarf. “But don’t ask for help from us, fairy goddaughter. You won’t get it. Not for them.”
“Why?” Kate hugged her arms to herself. “What’s your problem with them?”
“Our problem with them?” Freida almost smiled, and Gretchen grunted. “We’re a black-marked bunch. We were once the Brotherhood’s counterpart, sent into all the Four Corners of Ever to hunt down enemies of the North by their side. But we abandoned our Queene and fought our way out of the North. The Brotherhood killed many of us that day. And after, they hunted us across the Corners until we slipped across the gate. We’ve been hiding here in blissful peace ever since.” Freida nodded toward the women around the couches. “Those assassins you smell of have instructions to kill us the moment they see us. They’re still loyal to that heartless creature they call a queene.”
“They’re not!” Kate shook her head. “Mor, Shayne, and Dranian are going to stay here, like you. Only Cress is going back to where he came from, and that’s why I need your help.”
Gretchen’s knitting needle snapped in half. She gripped both pieces tightly in her fist, shaking a little. Hazel slapped a hand over Gretchen’s knee to keep her still. Even Freida’s face was dark when she looked up.
“I will never trust them in my faeborn life after the blood they shed of my sisters. We will not share the human realm with them, Kate Kole. If they stay, we will kill them,” she promised.
Kate’s mouth parted. “But they’re not coming after you anymore! Can’t you help them just once? Cress is going to die if he goes back!”
Freida stood and rounded the table. She crouched before Kate, unrolling the red scarf, then she wrapped it around Kate’s neck in a loose knot, tucking it in nicely at the edges. “I’ll protect you if I can, fairy goddaughter. But I will not extend that generosity to them. We hope to see you at knitting club again if you survive whatever’s coming for those faeborn fools you’re keeping company with.”
With that, the old woman went back to her place on the couch and started unravelling a new ball of yarn. It seemed like the chat was finished.
“Then what should I do about the Shadow Fairies who’ve been following us?” Kate asked. The entire knitting club ignored her. So she stood. “Fine. I’ll enslave them like I did with the others. Any objections?” she asked. And then, when no one still spoke up, she said, “Is anyone here concerned that I might die when I go try to do this?”
Freida sighed but said nothing.
Kate looked from one woman to the next. She shook her head as she went to get her coat without a word. The club knitted in silence as she pulled it on and opened the door of the Yarn & Stitch.
Freida’s voice was faint when she finally broke the quiet. “The names you plan to use won’t work on them, Kate Kole. And you’d be a fool to try and learn their real names. The moment you attempt to enslave a Shadow Fairy, it’ll show up behind you and run you through with a fairsaber before you can take your next breath.”
Kate stood in the doorway until Freida finished her warning.
She pushed out into the street without another word.
