Page 2 of The Cursed Fae

Mom launched more feeble protests, citing both my need to be up at the crack of dawn for my first day of college and the fact we should unpack the car. Essie acted as if she didn't hear a word.

The town of Arcane Landing might not have given me the warm fuzzies, but Nana's house sure did. It was cozy and lived in like no place we'd ever rented. The scars on the wooden floors were from generations of children playing hide-and-seek. The smell of cinnamon hung in the air and clung to the sheets and towels. None of the furniture matched, yet still went together.

The walls were a bright, buttery yellow that was as constant as Nana herself. The hallway between the foyer and the kitchen was a visual timeline of our family dating back to The Crossing. I could see myself in the faces that stared back at me. Women and men with my same dark hair and high cheekbones.

Dinner—or rather midnight snack, since we'd eaten hours earlier—was Nana's famous venison chili. The cornbread with fresh cinnamon butter was my favorite of all her dishes. Peach cobbler came straight out of the oven for dessert.

“Have you spoken with your mother?” Nana asked Mom between bites.

“You know I haven't,” Mom replied, coolly. “Before you start in, let me remind you that she is the one who severed contact.”

I hid a smirk behind an enormous piece of cornbread. One of my favorite parts of visiting Nana was witnessing this role-reversal firsthand. For all her lectures to me, Mom deserved a lecture from Nana.

Essie pursed her wrinkled lips. “Revisionist history is frowned upon these days, Colleen. Call your mother. Make peace with the old bat before it's too late.”

Though I'd never met my grandmother, I'd seen her across town on a few visits to Arcane Landing. Once, Nana had tried to broker an intervention between her and my mother. Her attempt was the reason for the singed second-floor banister.

That night I slept in the attic bedroom. It was a space that time forgot. My great-great-great grandma Anna knitted the patchwork quilt on the bed for her daughter June. Anna's father, Henry, had carved the twin rocking chairs for her and my great-great-great uncle Cecil. The rolltop desk, my favorite antique, came to America during The Crossing. Only the Victrola that Nana received as a wedding gift shorted the century mark.

I breathed in the room's musky cedar scent as I swapped my jeans and hoodie for a pair of flannel pajamas Nana had left folded on the bed. There was something special about the room. In there, I got a taste of the nostalgia Mom harbored for Arcane Landing. There was a peace of mind that I had experienced nowhere else. The cynical part of me believed it was a magically fabricated feeling—that Nana had spelled the attic with calming vibes. My great-grandmother was sneaky like that.

Sleep didn't come easily. It reminded me of all the nights I'd laid awake before my first day at a new school while growing up. I'd started over enough to know the drill. Some people would be nice to me. Some people would dislike me for no reason. Most would ignore me, just as they dismissed ninety percent of their classmates. Eventually, I would find a friend or two. We'd grow close, then something would happen, and I would move away to start over.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Not this time, though. Arcane University specialized in the advanced education of supernaturals. This made the experience very different from my previous ones—and I hated unknown variables. Even worse, this was my only night in my great-grandmother's house. After that, I'd officially be a resident of the dorms.

Of all things I already hated about my new life, I despised this the most.

My eyes had just closed when my cell buzzed on the pillow beside me. Even before I glanced at the display, I knew who it was: Lena. My former roommate was the best and closest friend I had ever made. Lena and I had taken a couple of years off before planning to attend USC together. Now, only she would travel and adventure before starting human college.

“Hey,” I muttered, only half-awake.

“Are you sleeping?”

“It's late,” I mumbled.

“Aren't you three hours behind California?” Lena asked.

“Ahead. It's three hours later here.”

“Oh,” she said, drawing out the single syllable. “Glad to hear you haven't turned into an old lady yet. Good luck tomorrow, call me when you can.”

“You too,” I replied nonsensically and then promptly fell asleep.

Arcane University for the Elemental Arts looked a lot like the elite private institutions in movies and television shows. A blanket of snow covered the sprawling front lawn, which glistened beneath the morning sun. The main school building was a gothic stone architecture, like a castle from the old country. Smaller structures dotted the campus grounds, which extended all the way back to a treeline in the distance. There was even a stadium and horse stables.

“Remember, Winter,” Mom said as she drove through the imposing wrought-iron gates. “These kids are just like you. You can be yourself. Make some friends.”

“I had friends. In California,” I retorted. “And I highly doubt anyone here is 'just like' me.” Shivering, I zipped my parka all the way to the top.

Mom ignored my attitude and pulled to a stop. The high temperature for the day was twenty-three degrees—as in nine below freezing. It was a mind-blowing prospect for a California girl. Despite the frigid air, when Mom opened her mouth to deliver what was no doubt another lecture, I decided to sacrifice warmth in favor of silence.

“This is close enough, I can walk.”

As I reached for the door handle, Mom was faster. She hit the child safety lock.

“What?” I asked, annoyed. “I don't want to be late.”

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