Lullaby (The Fable Series, Book 2)

Chapter Nine

Felix's love bite is gone the next morning.

Not healing, not faded – just gone. As if it was never there in the first place.

I run my fingers over the smooth patch of skin, still feeling the touch of his cold lips.

If it weren't for Alastaire seeing the mark and losing his shit over it, I might have thought I'd imagined the whole thing.

Great. Yet another lovely incident to add to the long list of 'Impossible Things That Can't Be Happening To Me But Somehow Are.'

Unfortunately, the other, older bruise over my ribcage is still right where it was, as darkly purple and painful as ever.

Even though there's no longer a need for me to cover up, I still choose a high-necked skater dress with a button-up collar. My neck and shoulders are totally hidden, and I won't have to wonder if Felix or Alastaire thinks I'm some kind of invincible quick-healing mutant or something.

By the time I get downstairs, the late morning sun is already streaming through the stained glass window in the living room. I walk over to it, noticing how the sparkling light creates the illusion of movement as I move nearer.

The silver tailed girl is surrounded by her five captors, or suitors, depending on how optimistic one wants to be. The dark-cloaked figure, the golden-winged angel, the sea bandit, the faery warrior, the knight. Now that I know the stained glass window is my gran's handiwork, it's obvious that the figures are from the myth she told me as a child.

The sea maiden and her five princes.

But actually, that's not quite right. Gran said that there was only one prince in the story, but his nature varied from telling to telling. So only one of these characters is the true prince – the rest are fakes, false versions, decoys – shadows, of what might have been but wasn't.

Why did gran create this stained glass window? Why did she even tell me the story in the first place? Did she intend for me to someday, somehow, find it?

I wonder if the boys have noticed their own uncanny similarity to the figures in the stained glass tableau.

Part of me is tempted to just lay my cards on the table – I could gather the boys and Kitty, and tell them everything. Everything that's happened, and everything that I suspect is happening. And then I'll demand some answers.

However, there are three problems with that approach. Firstly, I want to avoid telling the boys about the bus, about Evan and Mia and the others. It was one thing telling Kitty, but sharing the secret further... it's too much. Too raw. Too personal. Too soon. Second problem – the boys might not have any idea what's going on anyway, and they're as much in the dark as I am. In which case they'll either think I'm lying or insane when I start talking about ghosts and angels. Third problem – even if they do know something, they could simply decide to play ignorant. After all, it's not like they have to tell me anything they don't want to. I need more information, and once I have a better idea of what I'm dealing with I'll confront the boys.

The only person left who's likely to know the truth is Bea. Besides her and gran being besties for as long as I can remember, there's her connection to the cabin. Not to mention the strange way she was acting when she showed up at my house three weeks ago with a basket of apples.

I'll have to visit her today. Otherwise, the unanswered questions are going to drive me crazy.

"There ye are!" Lyall says, popping his head through the living room doorway . "We've been wonderin' when ye were plannin' on joinin' us down in de recordin' studio. Late night?"