Page 17 of Faerie Marked

I told her what had happened at the party, at dinner, the stories I’d heard about Kendrick and how he’d accosted me outside the powder room.

Barbara leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “And Elfwaite sent you to me,” she said eventually.

“She did.”

“God, I’ve known Elfwaite for a long time.” Her laugh came fast and sharp, the cigarette squashed in time with the sound. “She’s a real kicker, not like the rest of them.”

My shoulders relaxed at the affection I heard in Barbara’s voice. No, Elfwaite would not steer me wrong. “She’s sweet,” I agreed.

“Too damn sweet for her own good sometimes. Unlike the rest of her kin. Pixies can be notorious tricksters along with the rest of the fairies, hobgoblins, and all.” Barbara’s gaze hardened and she looked me up and down as though deciding whether I was worth the effort or not. “But Ihatethe high Fae. Your kind, judging by the smell. I’ve been burned by them before. Most are only out for their own good. Why should I help you?”

My heart stuttered and skipped a beat. “Please. I have money.” I dug deep into my pocket and drew out the bills I’d snagged from Uncle William’s desk. “Whatever amount you want, I can pay you. And I can get more if you need it.”

They were crisp hundreds stacked perfectly in order, face up. The way Will preferred and a way demonstrating his control over his world.

Barbara shrugged. “I have no need for money. I have all I want that money can buy, and what I don’t have, I can barter for easily enough. Cash isn’t going to be enough to sway me to help you. And trust me, girl. If you want something strong enough to fool the Fae, then you are going to need a lot of help. Or else start to get cozy with yourfated mate. Sometimes nightmares can be the best in the sack.”

I didn’t care for the way she said “fated mate” and liked her sexual reference even less. “You won’t take my money,” I said, stomach twisting.

“Damn right I won’t. You are going to have to offer something else if you want me to get involved with what you’re doing.” She drew a circle in the air with her cigarette, indicating the whole of me. “It’s going to take a lot. I’m not in the general practice of helping the Fae. Even ahalfone.” So, she knew what I was. Oh boy. “Sorry, girl.”

Staring down at the scarred table, I sucked on my teeth. “Look,” I began, “I don’t have much love for the Fae either. You obviously know what I am since you can…smellme? You know I’m a halfling. My parents fell in love despite belonging to doomed sides. Then my father, the shifter, was killed by Fae enforcers right in front of me. I was six years old.”

I was six and I didn’t understand who I was,whatI was, should not exist in this world or any world. I didn’t understand how people would hate me and curse me for simplybeing. It didn’t seem fair. But Barbara didn’t need to know. I’d wasted enough time feeling sorry for myself and my circumstances.

“My mother was carted off by her own people to be tried and executed for her crime. The crime of loving a werewolf and birthing a child by him. So, the Fae murdered my parents.” I rose to my feet, brows drawn together and knees shaking, trying to stand my ground. I looked pointedly at Barbara and the sharp tips of her fingernails tap-tap-tapping at her cigarette. “I need this school. I need to escape because I refuse to be some man’s sex toy to furtheranotherman’s power play.”

Her right hand twitched as Barbara continued to stare at me. Finally, in the comfortable gloom of her survivalist kitchen, she nodded. “All right,” she said slowly. “I’ll help you.”

“How much?” I asked her.

Barbara clicked her yellowed nails before reaching for a second pack of cigarettes and removing one to light with the burned embers of her last. She drew in a deep breath as though her cells would die at any minute without nicotine. “It’s not monetary value I require. I told you. Price is not necessarily measured in cash.”

“Fine,” I agreed.

A snap of her fingers conjured a contract from nothing, the paper unfurling and floating in midair. A second snap brought a fountain pen into being. Both slid toward me on an invisible breeze. Something inside of me clenched and dropped. I pretended not to care.

“When the time comes for me to collect payment for your debt, you will know immediately. Your signature at the bottom of this document—a binding magical contract, by the way—states you will repay the debt in whatever method the spellbinder—that’s me—demands at a future point in time.”

My uncle would drop dead on the spot if he knew I was about to sign a contract without proper representation. Or even reading it first. “I…I’m not sure if I should—”

“It’s an unnamed favor,” Barbara interrupted with a hint of impatience. “You want your cure-all, don’t you?”

The price was not explicitly laid out. This was a terrible idea, and the whole of me felt it. Uncle William would have never allowed one of his clients to go through with this deal. Not without the terms being discussed beforehand.

“Do you want my help or not?” she pressed.

Still I hesitated. Literally promising to doanythingfor this crazy lady meant endless possibilities and none of them good. What would she have me do? Barbara could demand I kill someone for all I knew.

But I also knew the Fae Academy for Halflings waited. And I’d do whatever it took to get out from under my uncle’s thumb and save myself from Kendrick Grimaldi.

You’ll go when I say you can go.

Before I thought better of it, and with the memory of his voice echoing in my head, I grabbed the pen to sign my name on the contract.

7

Like a poor unfortunate soul standing in front of a sea witch, I signed my life away.

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