Page 78 of Flirting with Darkness

“I’m a TA at the Conservatory of Music,” I explain, immediately regretting the impulse.

I don’t want him knowing what I do. I don’t want him knowing how to find me.

“I’m probably late.” I check my pocket, and my phone’s almost out of battery. “Shit.” The screen is cracked.

I can’t remember when or how that happened. I can’t remember anything since walking down the dark basement’s staircase.

More confusingly yet, the time displayed can’t be right: according to the phone, it’s eleven twenty-three at night, on the seventeenth of January.

That’s yesterday’s date.

My head’s going to explode.

“You’re not going to be able to attend your classes for quite some time, Darina. Don’t you remember? You’re sworn to my service.”

No, no, no.

I refuse to accept his words. I refuse to accept what they mean about last night, about my view of the world.

He’s just a spoiled asshole used to getting his way with women. He drugged me and dragged me here, no doubt doing all manner of things to me while I was passed out.

He’s not…the other thing.

I can deal with a rapist. I have fists and teeth and nails for that. But afairy?

I open my mouth, but just as the first word crosses my lips, he says, “Silence.”

Once again, I immediately comply without any argument, without so much as a thought of dissent.

Like his word is law. Like I am indeed, his to command.

My stomach roils in dread and disgust.

“Your body remembers, at least. It is rather strange that your mind did not remain under my control, but no matter. It is your body I need.”

I’m going to be sick.

Insults and threats come to mind, and I want to spew all of them at him, but they choke my throat, leaving me weak. Pain intensifies in my head as I fight to protest, to reject him.

“I offered you a compliment, and you thanked me, dear pretty, foolish human.” His smile shows his white, pointed teeth. “You thanked me,” he repeats, chuckling like it’s the best of jokes. “Your kind has grown far too easy to enslave. Believing yourself at the top of food chain, you ceased to pay attention to the laws of the worlds. He—or she—who thanks a folk admits to a debt. Hence you shall serve me a year and a day as the law dictates—or until I consider it fulfilled.”

He can’t be serious. Right?

But at the corner of my mind, I remember a similar conversation last night. Cissa had protested. She’d said it wasn’t a fair deal, because I didn’t understand what it entailed.

She promised he’d pay for it if he took me.

But he still took me.

I want to scream, to deny all of his claims, but the fact that I cannot form words confirms his words.

Those delicate pointed ears aren’t for show. This room that makes no sense in the modern world looks like this because I’m not in San Francisco. I’m somewhere inanotherworld. And he is nothuman.

“Don’t worry, pretty toy. I’ll get tired of you before the year is out.”

Ayear.

For the debt you admit to owing me, I shall take the wonted payment. You’ll serve me for a year and a day.

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