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“I can’t leave the asylum. I’m not like you. I can’t just disappear.”

“That’s what you think.”

“Nine—”

“You can leave this place any time you want to,” he tells me.

And then he drops the bomb:

“How else are you visiting the cemetery?”

11

How does he know that? Nobody knows that. Apart from drawing her stone angel during art therapy, I never share my sister with anyone in here unless I’m forced to during sessions.

Hell, even I’ve spent the last few years believing that my nighttime visits to Madelaine’s graves are just really, really vivid dreams. Rain-soaked bangs? Sweat. Mud on my slipper? I must have stepped in something in the common room. I made excuses for it all because I had to. Anything else was impossible.

“How do you know that?” I demand.

Nine arches one midnight black eyebrow. It’s a dark slash in his pale face as he says, “Do you deny it?”

“They’re just dreams.”

“For some, perhaps. But not for a shade-walker.”

“A what?”

“It’s a gift. A fae blessing. A shade-walker has the power to travel through shadows,” Nine explains. “You can go wherever you want, whenever you want.”

“I’m not a shade-walker.”

“You are.”

He’s telling the truth. But this is… this is insane. And that’s saying something, coming from someone like me.

“Really? I’ve wanted out of here for close to six years now,” I scoff. “I’m still here.”

“Oh? That’s probably because you’ve never tried before.”

He’s got me there. I can honestly say that I’ve never seen a shadow and thought, Hey, I can travel through that.

Nine is serious. I can tell. He’s wearing the same expression he always used to wear whenever he told me stories about Faerie. Like he’s teaching me something that I need to know and—oh, shit, I’m not supposed to be buying into any of this.

“Shade-walking is easier to do when you’re sleeping. Your conscious mind will fight against what it deems impossible but, unconscious, there are no limitations to what you can do. Explains your graveside visits. With a little practice, you can control the shadows. It’s a Dark Fae gift. I can teach you how to use it.”

“Wait— wait. I’m not saying I believe any of this, but if I do? How do I have this gift?” A horrible suspicion hits me. “I’m… I’m not a Dark Fae or something, am I?”

Nine scowls at the same time as I realize that my horrified expression probably just insulted him. “No, you’re not. It’s a Dark Fae gift, but some are just born with it. In your case, you were—it’s what drew you to the Fae Queen’s attention. No changing it now. It’s time for you to use that. If anything happens to me, it might be the only thing that can save you.”

I ignore that part. The fae have been chasing me for more than twenty years according to Nine. They can wait five more minutes while I wrap my head around this whole shade-walking thing.

And it’s not like I want to believe him—I don’t—but there have been too many mornings where I woke up exhausted with dirty slippers and the smell of graveyard soil in my nose.

“Okay,” I admit. “Fine. So I visit the cemetery in my dreams. But I always wake up here. I’m not really going anywhere.”

“Yes, Riley, you are. You have to understand. You come back to this place because it was safe. This asylum took over as your protector while I kept you shielded. But that time is over with. I’m here to take my job back.” Nine extends his arm. “Come to me. Give me your hand.”

It’s the one thing I can’t do. Not even for Nine. Too many years being taught that I should never, ever willingly touch a fae makes me refuse. Now that I know he’s one of them, it’s not even a question.


Tags: Jessica Lynch Touched by the Fae Paranormal