Cursed Rebel

  Cursed rebel

  H.G. Lynch

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Copyright © 2014 by H.G. Lynch

  Edited CLS Editing Services

  Though some of the places are real this is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and situations in this work are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead, or situations are merely a coincidence.

  No part of this work may be reproduced in any form, other than a brief quote in a review or article without the written permission of the author.

  Prologue

  When I was a child, my Grandmother always told me stories about faeries—not the normal kind of bedtime stories you’d expect, with handsome princes, Thumbelina and pixies dancing in the garden. Well, there were handsome princes and dancing pixies, but usually the handsome prince turned out to be a monster, who lured the fair maiden into his den, so he could eat her. The pixies made anyone who dared join their dance keep going until their feet bled.

  No, the bedtime stories my Grandmother told me were more like warnings, and there was one particular warning I never forgot.

  “Lucy,” she said one night as she sat on the edge of my bed, stroking my hair, “I’m going to tell you what my grandmother told me, and you must promise me you won’t ever forget. There are evil creatures out there, little Lucy. Some of them look just like you and me, but they’re monsters, and you can’t ever trust them.”

  So, of course, as a seven-year-old, I had to ask, “But, Grandma, if they look just like us, how can I tell which ones are the monsters?”

  My Grandmother smiled and said, “It’s in your blood, Lucy. When you meet one of them, you’ll know it inside. But there are other ways to tell. The Fair Folk can’t stand the touch of iron, or the smell of burning sage. If you can’t get them near either of those, though, the simplest way to tell is by their ears. Because, while they mimic humans almost perfectly, there is one flaw they cannot remove, and that is their pointed ears.”

  She pushed back my hair with her fingers, tucking it behind my ear, and I reached up to make sure it wasn’t pointed.

  My Grandmother laughed and patted my hand. “Don’t worry, little Lucy,” she said comfortingly. “You are not a monster.”

  Then her smile fell and tears filled her eyes. Shocked, because I had never seen my Grandmother cry, I rose from the mattress and wrapped my skinny arms around her neck. Grandma hugged me tight, patting my back gently.

  “But, one day, the Fair Folk might come for you, Lucy. And I want you to promise me that, no matter what they say, no matter what they promise, you won’t ever go with them. You promise me that right now.”

  I nodded against her neck, the scent of her lavender perfume making me sleepy, and said, “I promise, Grandma. I won’t ever go with them.”

  With a sigh, she laid me down and tucked me in. I yawned, curling up with my teddy bear as Grandma turned out the light. Then, as she went out the door, I thought she whispered, “I pray the Fair Folk never find you, little Lucy. But I fear my prayers will go unanswered…”

  Chapter One

  ** Lucy **

  “Lucy? Earth to Lucy?”

  Someone snapped their fingers in front of my face, and I flinched. Turning in my seat, I glared at Natalie.

  She sat at the desk next to mine, grinning as she waggled a pen back and forth in front of my eyes. “Welcome back, Luce. You looked like you were away with the fairies for a second there.”

  I scowled at her and snatched the pen from her hand. I glanced toward the front of the class—Ms Singh was writing equations on the board, apparently oblivious to the racket in the room. As usual, nobody was paying attention, and several conversations were being held—none of which involved discussing the parabolic equation they were being set. Sometimes, I wondered why Ms Singh bothered to show up to class at all. It wasn’t as if we ever learned anything from her, which was why I’d failed my last Math test.

  Sighing, I flung the pen back at Natalie. It skidded across the top of her desk and rolled off the edge. Giving me a glower, she bent to retrieve it off the floor. When she came back up, she straightened her glasses and tucked a lock of her dark brown hair that had come loose from its braid back behind her ear. I rolled my eyes. Nat wasn’t really a geek—she was just short-sighted. She was actually really quite beautiful when she bothered to wear her contacts.

  Then, maybe I was biased. She was my best friend, and she always told me I was beautiful too—I just needed to lose my perpetual scowl.

  “You know, one of these days, your face is going to stick like that,” she said, pointing at my face with the end of the pen.

  I scowled harder. “It’s already stuck like this. Can’t change it.”

  She laughed and turned in her chair to face me, leaning forward across the aisle between our desks. “So,” she said, “what’s got you all in a huff today? You’re even more grumpy than usual.”

  I looked down at my desk, where my pen rested in the crease of the pages of my jotter. I picked it up and started doodling in the margins. Shrugging, I said, “Nothing really. I just had a weird dream last night.”

  Nat’s brown eyes widened, and she leaned further forward, her chair tipping. Her braid slid over her shoulder. “Ooh? What did you dream? Was it the one about you and Ryan again because—”

  I shot her a poisonous look and she shut up. I cast a semi-panicked glance across the room to where Ryan, the third member of our little trio of friendship, sat silently hunched over his desk. His pen moved swiftly over the page of his jotter, but whether he was doing the equation, creating one of his amazing drawings, or just doodling, I couldn’t be sure. His slightly-too-long black hair fell over his face, but I could see him chewing on his lip, toying with his lip-ring.

  Natalie always said Ryan and I would be perfect together. Apparently, we had matching scowls. A lot of people outside our little trio already thought me and Ryan were a thing. And ever since that dream a couple of weeks before, I’d begun to wonder…

  Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to Natalie and glared at her. “No, not that dream, and if you ever tell anyone about that, I’ll kill you.”

  She pulled a sad face. “Not even Ryan? ‘Cause, you know, I think he—”

  “Especially not Ryan. Got it?”

  She nodded. I sighed, slumping back in my seat, but she bounced right back.

  Her grin springing into place, she asked, “So what was the weird dream then?”

  With a groan, I folded my arms on my desk and leaned my head on them, closing my eyes. What was the dream I had last night? I could only recall bits of it. The only thing I remembered clearly was a face. A boy. A beautiful boy. My age, or a little older, with red hair and very green eyes…

  I sat up. “I don’t really remember any of it.”

  Natalie looked at me suspiciously, as if she knew I was lying.

  “I just know it was weird.”

  Thankfully, before she could ask any more questions, the bell rang and everyone began to crowd out the door, inexplicably excited to get to their next classes. Me, I went as slow as possible, hanging back behind the crowd to avoid the jam in the doorway. I had English next. The only subject I hated more than Math. I slowed even further, until Natalie grabbed my elbow and started dragging me.

  “Come on, Lucy. We’re going to be late.”

  “Oh no,” I muttered sarcastically. “If we’re late, we might miss Mrs Andrews picking people to read the character parts of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and who would ever want that?”

  Nat ignored my sarcasm, but right behind me, I heard someone snort. Curious and a little annoyed that someone was listening in on our conversation, I turned to see who was laughing. However, nobody appeared to be paying Nat and me any attention—then I caught a glimpse of red hair and my stomach knotted. People swam around me, like water around a rock, as I paused in the hallway. The flash of red writhed against the current, moving slickly and quickly between the jostling bodies.

  Something prickled under my skin, an urge to follow that red head. Distantly, I heard Natalie call my name as I pulled my arm from her grip.

  “Lucy? Where are you going? English is this way!”

  I kept going the wrong way, sliding through the thinning stampede, keeping to the wall as I strained to keep track of that shock of red hair bobbing above the dispersing crowd like a boat on the waves. My heart was beating hard, a strange feeling twisting my gut. Some annoying tall person stepped out of a classroom in front of me, blocking my way, and I snarled at them, shoving them aside just in time to see that red head disappear around the corner.

  The hallway was almost empty, so I broke into a run as someone yelled my name from behind me. My converse squealed on the floor as I skidded around the corner and came to a dead stop so fast, I almost tipped over. I gaped, blinking.

  The short hallway in front of me dead-ended in a fire door, and there was nobody there. Where did he go? I thought, frowning. There was nowhere for the redhead to go, except out the door, but it was alarmed.

  “Lucy,” a loud, firm voice said from behind me.

  I jumped and closed my eyes, muttering a curse under my breath. I knew that voice, and that tone.
r />   Slowly, I turned around to see Mr Hawkins, the deputy head teacher, standing with his arms folded and a thunderous expression on his narrow, sharp face. It took me a second to work out that he was who I’d run into in the hallway. Oops, I thought, shrinking back.

  “Got somewhere important to be, Lucy?” the deputy asked in an expectant, bone-dry tone that sent chills down my spine.

  The guy had always creeped me out.“Uh…English class?” I said, straddling a line between insolent and meek.

  Mr Hawkins raised an eyebrow to show he was unimpressed by my wit. “Well, I hope you don’t have plans after school, because you have a twenty minute detention.”

  I floundered. “But…my mum will worry if I’m not home—”

  “Then I’ll call her to let her know you’ll be home late,” he said with a nasty smile.

  I wondered how much more trouble I could get in if I kicked him in the shin.

  “Now, get to class.” He jerked his head, motioning me past him.

  I glared as I passed, muttering under my breath. I hefted my schoolbag higher on my shoulder as I stalked towards English class, thinking, Mum is going to kill me when she finds out.

  Shivering, I curled my gloved hands around the frosty swing chains, swaying back and forth gently. My schoolbag rested on the ground where the soggy grass met the slick rubber that carpeted the area under the swing set. It was freezing, and the amber and crimson leaves on the trees at the far end of the park crackled in the bitter wind. My breath made puffs of mist in the air, and my ears were starting to ache from the cold, but I wasn’t quite ready to go home and face my mother. She was going to be so pissed that I’d gotten detention. No doubt Mr Hawkins would have called her, just as he’d said, and probably made it sound as if I’d been skiving class and had talked back when he’d caught me.

  I sighed and reached into my pocket, turning up the volume on my MP3 until Three Days Grace was screaming in my ears. Then, I leaned back as the swing rocked forward, moving my weight with the motion and pumping my legs until I was soaring, arcing through the air. The cold chains clinked, and the wind bit at my face, whipping strands of my blue-streaked hair across my cheeks. I closed my eyes, feeling the world sway around me, and dragged my feet across the rubber to slow my motion.

  I opened my eyes, and something flickered in my peripheral vision. I gasped, twisting my swing around. My MP3 fell from my pocket, hitting the ground and going dead. I yanked my earphones out and scrambled to pick it up as the stranger sitting on the swing next to me chuckled.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said, his voice smooth and charming.

  Still folding my earphones around my MP3, so they wouldn’t tangle, I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. I just didn’t know you were there.” I tucked my MP3 into my hoodie pocket and finally looked up—into bright, forest-green eyes. My stomach twisted and dropped, and a chill crawled up my spine—the same feeling I’d had in the hallway at school, when I had chased the mysterious, disappearing red-head.

  I stared at the boy in front of me, and I knew it had been him I’d seen. His glimmering green eyes were alight with amusement under a wild nest of red hair that stuck up in every direction. He wore a mischievous, crooked smile, and I had the overwhelming notion that I’d seen him before. Not just at school—I hadn’t been able to see his face in the hallway—but somewhere else. I recognised that smile.

  Then it came to me. I knew how I recognised him. He was the boy from my dream the night before. I didn’t know how. I’d never met him before, I was sure, so I couldn’t possibly have dreamt about him—but it was him.

  I sucked in a sharp breath, my eyes going wide, and the boy’s smile broke into a grin.

  “Do I know you?” he asked teasingly. He tilted his head, his unruly hair falling to one side and exposing the pointed tip of his left ear.

  Everything my Grandmother had ever said, every story she’d ever told me, every warning she’d given, flitted through my mind like a flock of birds in a panic. Fear and guilt slammed into me simultaneously. Fear of the creature sitting beside me, smiling casually, as if he belonged there. As if he was human. Guilt for not believing my Grandma, for thinking her stories were just that, for thinking she was just a little crazy.

  I leapt out of my swing and backed away, almost tripping over my schoolbag. My hand shook as I pointed at the boy. “Y-you! You’re…you’re one of them!”

  He cocked his head further to the side, his smile fading into a thoughtful expression, as if my sudden fear was puzzling to him. “One of who?” he asked, the smile still hidden in his voice, though it wasn’t on his lips.

  I shook my head. “You know who. One of the Fair Folk.”

  The boy—the faery—smiled again, but there was something disturbing about it…something almost predatory. He leaned forward, and I flinched, taking another step back, but he just rested his elbows on his knees. Still, I didn’t relax.

  “Ah. You mean a faery,” he said. His voice was nonchalant, but those unnaturally green eyes watched me intently, gauging my reaction.

  I winced at the word, feeling as if the ground was spinning beneath me—as if I was still on the swing, swaying back and forth through the air. This couldn’t be happening. Faeries weren’t real, but something inside me told me otherwise, and I remembered my Grandmother’s words from ten years before. It’s in your blood, Lucy. When you meet one of them, you’ll know it inside.

  I swallowed. I needed to get out of there—right then.

  Crouching, I swept my hand along the damp ground, searching for my schoolbag. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the faery boy, and he watched me with a small, amused smile. My head swam with a sudden spell of dizziness, and panic made my lungs contract. I still couldn’t find my bag. Frustrated, I looked down and snagged the strap, quickly getting to my feet again. When I looked up, I stumbled backward, my hand clenching around my bag strap.

  The faery was right in front of me, so close his breath tickled my cheek, and the smell of warm leaves and bark flooded my nose. His hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist to keep me from falling over my own feet. I jerked away from his touch, terrified that he’d use some sort of faery mind-control on me.

  He didn’t seem disturbed by my obvious panic. He stepped forward as I stepped back, matching my stride, his eyes gleaming.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you. But I do need you to come with me.”

  His voice washed over me, warm and kind, soothing some of my fear. I was rooted to the spot as he reached out and slid his fingertips over the back of my hand, his touch sending waves of heat through me.

  His green eyes darkened as he bent his head close to mine, and his lips brushing my cheek as he murmured seductively, “Come with me, and you could have anything your heart desires. The most beautiful dresses, the sweetest desserts, servants at your beck and call, any man you want in your bed. You could be treated like royalty, like a princess…if you just come with me, anything could be possible.”

  I could imagine what he was talking about as perfectly as if it were real. I could see myself sitting upon a throne, dressed in the most elegant silk, while servants served me chocolate strawberries on golden platters. I could see a dim bedroom draped in velvet and lace, the beautiful faery boy laying lines of kisses down my throat.

  I opened my mouth to agree. For him, I’d do anything, say anything. “Yes, I…”

  Then whatever spell he’d been laying on me broke, and ice flooded through me, making me shiver violently. I yanked my wrist free of his grip and leapt back out of his reach. The faery stared at me with wide eyes, as if he hadn’t expected me to escape his enchantment. I bolted before he could weave another spell to trap me.

  I ran out of the park and onto the frost-slick street. My lungs and throat burned as if I was breathing slivers of glass, and I slipped on the icy pavement twice, catching myself on a lamppost and then a car parked nearby. I dashed across a busy road just as the light turned green, and heard the furious honking of a horn behind me. I didn’t stop running until I hit my front door and burst through it, slamming it shut.