Darklight (22 page)

“I didn’t tell him anything. He was
there,
Madd! And now he’s in danger, too.”

Kelley looked at Sonny lying on the bed. His skin was marble-pale against the dark wave of his hair spread out on the pillow, and the planes of his face showed in sharp, shadowed relief. Chloe slipped silently past Kelley and then past Maddox, sinking down to sit on the side of the bed. The Siren’s damp hair curtained her face, but Kelley caught a glimpse of her eyes—huge and dark in her delicate face—and she shivered in apprehension.

Maddox looked like he was going to lose it as Chloe leaned forward over Sonny, her hands caressing the sides of his face. Kelley steeled her own resolve and pleaded silently with him. Maddox clenched his fists and held his peace. The air in the bedroom hummed with barely audible song as the Siren turned Sonny’s face toward her and lowered her head to kiss him on the mouth.

Kelley blinked but she did not turn away as Sonny’s limbs went suddenly rigid and he thrashed violently, kicking his booted feet and bucking wildly. But Chloe, fragile as she looked, was stronger. She dug her fingers into Sonny’s shoulders, and the music filled the room until it was almost unbearable. A moment passed and then . . . silence. Chloe gasped for air and slipped from off the bed onto the floor.

Maddox helped the fragile siren to stand and led her to the door. “Come on, Chloe honey,” he murmured to her gently. “Let’s get you out of here. I’ll take you to my place for just a little while, eh?”

The Siren stopped in front of Kelley as she passed. She looked up at her, clear eyed, and said, “He is as he was. For all the rest, I am sorry.”

Kelley swallowed and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“I’ll be back soon,” Maddox said to her, his gaze flinty. “And then you and me? We’re gonna have a little chat, Kelley.”

Maddox had been gone for almost half an hour, and Sonny still wasn’t awake.

And Fennrys was with her on the terrace again, trying to talk sense into her—or so he claimed. “He won’t leave you. You know that. He killed a whole bunch of people—”

“Those weren’t
people,
Fennrys!”

“—and torched half a city block because he thought you were dead. He’ll
never
leave you. Not unless you leave him first.”

It sounded almost as though Kelley were talking to herself as she said, “Do you have any idea what you’re asking me to do?”

His voice was carefully neutral. “I’m not asking. I’m just saying.”

Tyff called her from the doorway. “Um, Kell. A word?”

“Can this wait, sunshine?” Fennrys growled at her through a forced smile.

“No.” Tyff glared at him. “It can’t.”

Kelley went over to where Tyff took her by the arm and led her back into the living room. Someone had turned on the TV; the news coverage was all about the early-morning four-alarm fire on West Fifty-second Street that had raged for hours.

“Listen—I heard what Wolf-boy just said to you,” Tyff hissed. “Don’t you think that just maybe he might have an ulterior motive or two?”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s right,” Kelley said. “It’s too dangerous for Sonny to stay here. Even if we manage to keep his secret, what about the leprechaun?”

“The
dead
leprechaun.”

“I saw one of them die, Tyff. I didn’t see what happened, ultimately, to the other one. And neither did you. Admit it.”

Tyff said angrily, “Okay—so
what
? So I didn’t see a toe tag. But I’m telling you—if he wasn’t dead by the time Sonny was finished playing psycho cat to his helpless rodent, then he still had a large flaming building drop on his head.”

It wasn’t enough. Not for Kelley to be sure.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to say.” Kelley heard a noise behind her. No—not a noise. She just knew. She felt the small hairs on the back of her neck rise, and she knew he was there. So. Now or never. Showtime. “But it doesn’t matter anyway.” She pitched her voice so that her words were clear. Unmistakable. “I’ve come to understand something, Tyff.”

“Really? And what’s that?”

“I don’t love Sonny.”

“What?”
Tyff’s eyes went wide. “Kelley . . . are you all right? Did you hit your head or something?”

Kelley strained to listen.

“Kelley—”

“I just want him to go,” Kelley said quietly. Too quietly.

Firecracker,
she heard him whisper.

She gathered her strength, looking Tyff square in the face. “I want him out of my world. Out of my life. Sonny doesn’t belong in the mortal realm anymore. I do. And I don’t want him here.” Kelley never in her wildest dreams thought she could be that good an actress. Skills like these would have kept her in theater school for sure. Hell—she deserved an Oscar for this performance. Her fingers touched the cold stones of her necklace.
I guess it really does make you a liar,
she thought.
Way to be human, Kelley . . .

“Kell . . .” Tyff tried again. “Sweetie—”

“That place was my home!” She pointed savagely toward the TV, where the ruins of the Avalon Grande still smoldered. “And now it’s gone. The people Sonny’s used to—the person, the thing he’s become . . . his kind destroy everything they touch.”

Kelley took a deep breath and clutched her fist so tightly around the clover charm, the silver edges bit into her flesh.

“But you love him, Kelley—”

“No, Tyff. I don’t. I barely even know him. All I know is that ever since I met him, my life has been nothing but chaos.” She spoke slowly, clearly, so that there could be no mistaking what she said. “I don’t love Sonny Flannery. I never did. And I never will.”

Faerie don’t lie.

Tyff just stared at her, not knowing how to respond.

Faerie . . . don’t . . . lie,
Sonny, she urged silently.

She listened to her own heart breaking as she stood there. Moments that seemed like lifetimes passed in front of her dry eyes like a gray parade while her hideous lie did its dirty, despicable work. When she heard the front door of the apartment open and then close behind her, she waited.
It’s not forever, Sonny. I’ll find a way to keep you safe. I’ll find a way for us. I promise. . . .

She walked away from Tyff, back out onto the terrace, where Fenn stood waiting for her to come back to finish their conversation.

She ignored him as if he were a piece of garden statuary and walked over to the railing, looking down over the park where she and Sonny had first met. She was dimly aware that Fenn left her alone after a while, although she couldn’t bring herself to care. She stood there, numb. Empty. When she heard Maddox’s voice calling out in the apartment, she froze.

“Has anyone seen Sonny?” he called, an edge of panic in his voice. “He’s gone!”

Kelley put her head on the balustrade and wept.

B
roken, burned, and bleeding, the leprechaun lay curled up on the floor of the carriage coach. The green blood from his shaking fingertips had marred the black lacquer of the door when he had opened it to crawl inside, and puddled on the carpet beneath him. But in the dimness of the garage, no one would see.

His rasping breath echoed through the cavernous underground room but did not disguise the sound of footsteps approaching.

The carriage door opened again, and he dragged himself up to lean on the bench seat.

“Did you get it?” From the depth of a deep-hooded cloak, eyes stared out at him.

He shook his head weakly, turning away from the flare of anger in that gaze.

“No,” he gasped. “But I will. And now I know—”

“Know what?”

Everything was going dark. “I know . . . where the Green . . . Magick . . .” The leprechaun slumped to the floor. His head rolled to one side, exposing his throat—and the blackened scorch mark on his skin in the shape of a four-leaf clover.

The hooded figure leaned down and traced the outline with a gloved fingertip. The underground garage grew warm with a glow like sunshine. All around the leprechaun’s spilled blood began to sprout tiny shoots, unfurling tender green leaves to the light.

Soon. Soon they would have enough power.

The hooded figure stood and cast a lingering glance at the dank, crumbling concrete of the garage. Soon the island of Manhattan would be transformed from a grim, gray mortal city into the paradise that the Fair Folk deserved. And if there was no room then for the human beasts, well . . . that was all right, too.

Darklight

Copyright © 2010 by Lesley Livingston

        All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

www.harperteen.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Livingston, Lesley.

  Darklight : a novel / Lesley Livingston. — 1st ed.

    p. cm.

  Sequel to: Wondrous strange.

  Summary: After a dangerous encounter in Central Park, actress Kelley Winslow, who has only recently learned that she is a Faerie, journeys to the Otherworld and begins to untangle the strands of a magical conspiracy with far-reaching consequences.

  ISBN 978-0-06-157540-2 (trade bdg.)

  [1. Fairies—Fiction. 2. Actors and actresses—Fiction. 3. Fantasy.] I. Title.

PZ7.L7613Dar 2010          2009014264

[Fic]—dc22                                      CIP

                                                          AC

EPub Edition © 2009 ISBN:9780061961328

10  11  12  13  14    LP/RRDB    10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1

FIRST EDITION

It is humbling and astonishing to me that I get to do this for the second time: thank the people without whom you wouldn’t be holding this story in your hands right now—no matter how many bright ideas I might’ve had. Once again, I owe a ridiculous and ever-increasing debt of gratitude and affection to a lot of people. The usual prime suspects are, of course, Jessica Regel and Laura Arnold—my agent and my editor, two extraordinary women about whom I simply cannot use enough superlatives without stepping into made-up-words territory. Thank you again to Jean Naggar and the staff of JVNLA for taking excellent care of me, along with Brendan Deneen at FinePrint. Thank you to the wonderful, wondrous crew at HarperCollins: my lovely editorial director Barbara Lalicki for her continued support; Maggie Herold, my terrific production editor, for once again making me seem as if I know what I’m doing; and Sasha Illingworth, my stellar designer, for making the whole thing look even better than it did the first time around (I didn’t think it was possible)! Thank you to my two Melissas, publicists extraordinaire. Thanks to editor Lynne Missen and everyone at HarperCollins Canada for making me feel like part of the family. Thank you, Adrienne and Simon, for the support and friendship. Now, as always, I send massive love and gratitude out to my family—especially my mom. You guys are the best cheering section a girl could ever ask for. And once again . . . this could not have happened without you, John, because not only are you the reason I made it past “what if?” but, with you at my side, I got to “what happens next?” which was even better.

There is one last thank-you I must add this time around, and that goes out—from the very bottom of my heart—to you, my readers, for embracing this story and coming along for the ride. I hope it’s a wild one!