Cursed Rebel Read online

I dropped my bag onto the floor and leaned against the door, breathing hard, a stitch lancing through my side with every breath. My hands trembled as I struggled to undo my school tie. I closed my eyes and sank to the floor, resting my forehead on my knees and trying not to freak out. Faeries are real, I thought with a stifled sob. Faeries are real and one just tried to…to what? He’d wanted me to go with him. Go with him where? And why?

  Then my mother’s furious voice broke through the craziness swirling in my head. “Lucy Anne! What is this I hear about you having detention?”

  Oh, crap. I’d completely forgotten the reason I’d been hiding in the park in the first place. With a sigh, I hauled myself to my feet, picked up my bag, and pushed aside all thoughts of faeries and beautiful red-haired boys in order to go and face my mother. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure I wouldn’t have been better off with the faery boy.

  Chapter Two

  ** Lucy **

  I couldn’t sleep that night. I lay awake in my bed for hours, staring at the dream catcher hanging above my bed, the feathers dancing lazily in the warm air blowing from the radiator. My mind was buzzing in circles like a fly trapped in a jar. Faeries are real. Faeries can’t be real. I imagined the boy in the park, the whole weird conversation, all of it. I’m just going crazy…. But I could still feel his fingers on my arm. I rubbed at my wrist where the faery boy had held it and shuddered.

  I glanced at the glowing numbers on the clock by my bed. It was after two am. Sighing, I slid out of bed, deciding a glass of milk might help me sleep.

  Padding down the stairs and through our open-plan living room, I shivered when my bare feet touched the cold tile of the kitchen floor. The faint glow of a lamppost on the street outside came through the window and glinted off the white countertops and shiny metal of the oven, giving me enough light to see by. I took a glass from the cupboard and went to the fridge. A puff of cold air greeted me when I opened the fridge door, and the little light above the shelves blinked on, illuminating a block of cheese, a bowl of leftover macaroni and cheese, various pots of yoghurt, and the bottle of milk.

  I grabbed the bowl of mac and cheese and the milk. Sticking the bowl in the microwave and setting it to reheat for a few minutes, I left it and turned to the glass I’d set on the counter. As I filled the glass, something flickered in my peripheral vision. My heart jolted in my chest, and I looked up into the dark living room, but all I could make out was the outline of the sofas and the TV against the wall. Still, I had the unnerving sense that someone—or something—was watching me.

  Feeling like a character in a horror movie, I set down the milk and snagged a knife from the stand on the counter. It felt cold and heavy against my clammy palm, but it reassured me to have a weapon in my hand. I crept around the end of the kitchen counter, peering into the darkest corners of the living room. The hair rose on the back of my neck. My eyes burned, but I refused to blink, and I reached for the light-switch on the wall just as something shifted in the corner of my eye. I froze, holding my breath, too afraid to breathe as I slid my eyes to the right…

  Beep, beep, beep.

  The sound of the microwave beeping to let me know it was done made me jump, and a scream died halfway up my throat. Breathing hard, I laid my hand over my chest and slumped against the wall. “Jesus,” I breathed.

  Once my heart stopped jack hammering off my ribs, I moved away from the wall and shoved the knife back into the holder. I screwed the lid back on the milk and replaced it in the fridge. Cautiously, I grabbed the warm bowl from the microwave, pulling my pyjama sleeve over my fingers. Snagging a fork from a drawer, I picked up my glass of milk and all but ran through the living room and up the staircase, feeling the back of my neck prickling the whole way until I closed my bedroom door behind me.

  With a full stomach, I grew sleepy. When I lay down, I drifted off almost immediately…

  *****

  Distantly, I knew I was dreaming. Or, at least, I thought I was. All I was really sure of was that it was night-time, and someone was calling my name from outside. I had to go to them. I had to find whoever was calling on me. I rolled out of bed and changed in a daze, pulling on my jeans and a jumper. I stepped into my trainers without bothering to lace them up and made my way down the dark hall, down the stairs, and paused there, staring into the abyss of the living room. A flicker of unease stole through me, but then I heard the voice again, so soft, beckoning me.

  “Lucy…Lucy…” it whispered, as if the person was standing right next to me.

  I started walking again, unlocked the front door, and slipped out into the frigid night.

  Outside, I shivered, the frost on the ground glittering in the pools of yellow light from the streetlamps. However, the voice was still calling to me, and I had to follow it. I glided along the street, passing under lampposts and shadows, my gut getting tighter with every step. The air smelled like snow and car fumes, and the streets were silent but for the sounds of far-off traffic and my soft footsteps.

  Eventually, I realised the voice was leading me back to the park. It came into view, the steel frame of the swing set glinting harshly in the moonlight, the rust on the seesaw like patches of orange mould. And there he was…

  The beautiful boy stood in the middle of the park, his tousled hair a blaze of bright colour in the dark and frosty night. His lips curved into a wicked smile when he saw me and raised his arms to take my hands. I hesitated, staring into his vivid green eyes, something inside me screaming that it was wrong…that there was a reason I shouldn’t trust him…

  His smile softened, and he whispered my name again, his voice irresistibly seductive, “Lucy. Come with me.”

  Despite the churning in my gut, I found myself nodding. As if I was watching myself from a distant part of my mind, I saw my hands reach out and clasp his, his slender fingers weaving between mine. I raised my gaze to his bright eyes, gleaming with something dark and fierce, and my stomach dropped in sudden horror.

  I tried to pull my hands from his, but he held on tight and leaned toward me, so close his lips almost touched mine, and whispered, “Sleep now, Snowdrop.”

  Chapter Three

  ** Lucy **

  I woke up feeling dizzy, sick, and uncomfortable. Something tickled my cheek, and bright light seared the backs of my closed lids. The overpowering scent of flowers filled my nose and stuck to the roof of my mouth. Irritated and disoriented, I lifted my arm, trying to find the duvet to pull it over my head, hoping to block out the light and the incongruous smell.

  “Wakey, wakey, Snowdrop.”

  The sound of that lilting, amused voice immediately shocked me into awareness. All the memories of the day before rushed back to me—the park, the boy, his pointed ears, the way he’d tried to make me come with him, and that dream, where I went to him in the night.

  Except, I had the horrible, sinking feeling that it hadn’t been a dream.

  Slowly, reluctant with fear, I opened my eyes, and found myself staring at a pair of bare feet in a patch of lilac flowers. My heart thudding with growing panic, my gaze worked its way upward, past long legs clad in simple brown cotton trousers, over a loose-fitting green t-shirt with a gaping V-shaped collar, up to an angular face with sharp, forest-green eyes.

  My breath caught in part fear and part awe at the faery boy’s beauty. One side of his mouth tilted up in a smirk.

  “About time you woke up. I was starting to think you were going to pull a Sleeping Beauty, and I’d have to kiss you to wake you up.”

  I swallowed and sat up, forcing my eyes off him to take in my surroundings. I was lying in a field of swaying purple flowers, the sun beating down on me through a canopy of lush green leaves. Through the shifting pattern of leaves above, I could see the sky was a perfect, summer-soft blue. The air was warm, a gentle breeze teasing my hair around my face. Somewhere, a bird sang in trilling, sweet notes. It was incredibly beautiful, and completely terrifying. I most definitely wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

  “Where…where am I?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Chills raced down my arms, and my heart rabbited in my chest. This has to be a dream. It has to be.

  Scared and confused, I looked at the faery boy, who leaned casually against a nearby tree with his head tilted as he watched me. I scrambled backward, away from him. “Where am I? Where have you taken me?” I yelled, my terror growing with every passing moment that I didn’t wake up, back in my own bed.

  The faery boy took a step toward me, his hand held out, and I sprang to my feet, almost tripping over tree roots. His eyes widened. “Whoa. Relax, Lucy. You don’t want to go running off in this place—believe me.”

  For the first time since I’d met him in the park, he sounded serious, and the sly threat in his words made me pause. I stared at him like a scared rabbit, and his brow furrowed with something that, if he were human, I would have called concern.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.

  I blinked. “Oh, of course not. You just bloody kidnapped me!” I spat sarcastically, causing his eyebrows to rise.

  A tiny, somewhat guilty-looking smile twitched at his lips. “Well…when you put it that way…”

  I barked a sharp, bitter laugh. “What other way is there to put it? And, you still haven’t told me where we are. How did you get me here?”

  Faery boy hesitated, looking unsure for the first time. He rubbed his fingers together nervously, his green eyes regarding me warily, as if he expected me to bolt. Then he sighed and said, “This place has many names; Mag Mell of the Aes Sidhe, Tir Na Nog of the Tuatha De Danann, the Otherworld of the Fair Folk. I’d not call it Tir Na Nog to any of the Sidhe, though—too many bad connotations, what with the battle of Mag Tuiredh and all that.” He shrugged casually, tilting his head down so his riot of red hair shadowed his eyes.

  I stared at him. Blinked. Stared some more. Waiting for the punch line. Hoping he was kidding. After a moment, when he didn’t grin and say, “Just joking. Got you going for a minute there, didn’t I?” I realised he was serious.

  My heart lurched, and my stomach caved in on itself in horror. “Y-you took me to the Otherworld? But…you can’t…I didn’t…” Trying to get my rapidly spinning thoughts and panicked breathing under control, I pressed my trembling hands over my face. I’m in the faery world. A faery boy just kidnapped me and took me to the faery world. No. No, no, no.

  I clenched my eyes shut and lowered my hands from my face to pinch my arm—hard enough that I bit my lip on a yelp. Then I felt fingers over mine, and my eyes flew open. I hissed as I threw myself backward, away from the faery boy.

  He looked at me with a mix of worry and amusement. “There’s no point in hurting yourself, Lucy. You already know you aren’t dreaming…not anymore.”

  I shook my head mechanically. “How…how do you know my name? And how did you get me here? I didn’t agree to come with you! You shouldn’t have been able to take me here if I didn’t agree! Those are the rules!” I pointed at him accusingly as I spoke, anger bubbling up over my fear—anger that he wasn’t playing by the rules my Grandmother had told me all the Fair Folk had to go by. They couldn’t take a human to their world unless the human agreed; they used all their charm and compulsion and pretty words to make humans want to go with them. I hadn’t agreed to come there!

  The faery boy grinned, any trace of uncertainty or concern abruptly gone, replaced by a careless amusement. “I may have slipped something into your drink last night, to make you more…cooperative,” he said, unashamed.

  I frowned. “My drink?” Then I remembered going to the kitchen for a glass of milk, the flash of movement in the living room, and the feeling of not being alone in the room. I’d turned my back on my glass for just a moment…

  I glared at the boy. “You spiked my drink?” I snarled, my fists clenching.

  He gave me an impish smile, raising one shoulder in a brief, unrepentant shrug. His eyes shone with humour. “Don’t worry now. I have no intention of committing sexual acts with you.”

  Despite my anger, I felt my face heat with a blush, and I increased my glare to laser beam levels. “Oh, well, that just makes me feel so much better,” I muttered through gritted teeth.

  His playful smile turned wicked, and he tilted his head, looking at me seductively through his auburn lashes. He spoke as if he hadn’t heard my sarcastic comment. “Unless you’d like me to? The summoning potion has worn off by now, your thoughts and actions are entirely your own, so if you’d like me to—”

  My nails bit into my palms, my cheeks burning with equal parts embarrassment and fury, and I spat, “Shut up. Shut up right now. Just…just tell me why you took me here.”

  Faery boy’s smile slid from seductive to playful in an instant, and something in my gut eased slightly. “Which is it, shut up or tell you why you’re here? I can’t do both,” he pointed out cheerfully.

  I growled at him. He laughed, the sound smooth and warm as the breeze rippling through the leaves.

  “Okay, okay. Relax, Snowdrop.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I muttered.

  “Lucy.”

  The sound of him saying my name reminded me of my “dream” the previous night, following that whisper of his voice through the darkened streets. I shuddered. As if sensing my discomfort, he smirked.

  I turned away from him, folding my arms as I stared through the maze of tall, twisted trees surrounding us. The blanket of purple flowers stretched for as far as I could see, illuminated to iridescence in patches where the sunlight broke through the emerald canopy above. The wind was a whisper through the leaves, making them rustle, and I thought I could hear a pure note of magic drifting on the breeze.

  Trying not to get absorbed in the unnatural beauty of the place, I asked again, “Why did you take me?”

  There was silence from the faery boy for a second, and then the warm breath of a sigh breezed across the back of my neck, making me yelp and turn. He was standing right behind me, his expression unreadable.

  In a flat voice, he said, “Because my King commanded it.”

  Scrubbing a hand across the back of my neck, as if to erase the feeling of his breath prickling the hairs there, I grumbled, “What exactly does that mean? Why does your King want me?”

  The faery boy grimaced and tilted his head—not as if he were amused but as if he were listening to something I couldn’t hear. I gritted my teeth in irritation, wondering if he was just stalling to avoid answering my questions, but then I heard it too. That note of music I’d heard before became a song, drifting on the wind. A soft, female voice crooned over the perfect melody, her words just on the cusp of my hearing.

  I started to follow the sound of the beautiful singing, eager to hear it more clearly, when the faery boy grabbed my arm. Gasping, I spun to face him, jerking my arm from his grasp. His expression was hard, fierce. Frightening. His green eyes glinted.

  “We must go. Now.”

  I took a step back. “What? Go where? I’m not going with you. The only place I’m going is home.”

  The boy sneered, his beautiful features transforming to something…not quite ugly, but menacing. “And how do you intend on getting there? The only way in or out of the Otherworld is with a faery guide, and I will not take you there. Good luck finding another who would.”

  My hands shook, but I pressed them against my thighs, so he wouldn’t notice, and raised my chin. “I will find a way home,” I said with a certainty that I didn’t feel. “So why don’t you just run along to your King and tell him you failed. I’m not going anywhere with you. Even if I have to wander this hellhole on my own, I’m going to find a way to get home somehow.”

  He took two quick strides forward, until he was right in my face, his narrowed eyes boring into mine. My muscles locked down, refusing to let me move away or even flinch. “This world is dangerous, Lucy. It is dangerous enough to those of us who live here, but to a human? Without me, this place would chew you up, spit you out, and make game pieces from your bones. You will stay with me, or you will die here. Do you understand me?”

  Unable to do anything else, I nodded mutely, staring at him with wide eyes.

  He jerked his head once, a little of his intensity fading. “Good. Now come.”

  He turned and stormed off, the flowers bending away from his feet as he walked, creating a path through the trees. Seeing no other choice, I shoved my hands in my pockets and followed him, leaving behind the haunting melody and the sunlit clearing and my own world.

  Chapter Four

  ** Lucy **

  “So, what’s your name?” I asked, watching the lilting of the faery boy’s shoulders, and the movement of the muscles in his back as he walked. We’d been trekking for a while—I couldn’t be sure how long, since I had no watch or even a mobile phone—and the faery boy had been silent since leaving the clearing. We’d finally emerged from the sea of purple flowers, but still we wandered through the trees, along some unseen path. It had grown stiflingly hot under the thick roof of lush leaves, the light beating down through the canopy turning the air green and gold.

  The faery boy glanced at me over his shoulder. “Hmm? Did you say something?”

  Peeling the hair off the back of my neck and twisting it up, I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I asked what your name is.”

  He turned around and started walking backward effortlessly as a grin broke across his face. “I have many names. But, for now, I’d like it to be secret.” He winked at me.

  I made a face, hoping he would trip over a root or walk into a tree. “So what am I supposed to call you then? If you won’t tell me, I’ll just make something up,” I warned.

  He shrugged, spinning around to face forwards again. “Call me what you please.”

  “Fine. I will.” Silence descended again, and we continued to walk while I thought of a name for the annoying faery boy. Several choices ran through my head, but none of them seemed to fit. With his wild red hair and sharp beauty, he reminded me a little of a fox. However, his cryptic answers and mercurial mood swings made him seem sort of mysterious, sort of exotic. Strange. Other. “Fin,” I said eventually.