Page 130 of Taken By the Fae

“She probably found a dead animal up there,” Dad says, walking past the hallway. “That attic hasn’t been clean since the damn house was built.”

Nan frowns. “Was there a dead animal?”

You could say that.I get away with nodding, unable to vocalize the lie.

Instead of getting answers, I’m left with a million more questions, and I killed the only person I could ask.

“I think that’s enough for one day,” Mom announces.

“Are you sure?” I ask hoarsely.

Nan nods, guiding me away from my mom. “You head home. You’ve been a great help. Thank you, Aurora.”

I force a smile for her. “Hey, Nan? I found an old Marshall family tree in a box in the attic. I think it was in a box of Granddad’s things. Neither of you are on it, but I was wondering if you’d seen it?”

Her face crinkles as she thinks about it. “I can’t say that I have. I’m an old girl, but I still have an excellent memory, and I don’t remember any family trees.”

I offer her a smile, even though I feel as if I’m going to cry. “Do you mind if I take it?”

“Take whatever you like. Everything is going to a thrift store or the trash.”

“Thanks, Nan.”

She reaches for my hand and kisses it. “You’re very welcome.”

Nan goes back into the living room, and I force my legs to climb back into the attic, where I stand, staring at that piece of paper—that one name—until my head is spinning.

Jules is—was—my great-great-great-great-grandfather. He was part of the Marshall bloodline—mybloodline.

I slide to the floor, gripping the paper in my hands, and lean against a stack of boxes. I don’t care how dirty the old hardwood is. My knees are shaking so hard, if I didn’t sit down, I was going to fall on my ass.

Jules being a distant fae relative doesn’t make me feel anything new when it comes to ending his life. It got my brother back, and I don’t regret it for a second.

I pull the box across the floor toward me and tear through the rest of it. There’s nothing else with any mention of Jules inside. Instead of going home, I spend the rest of the afternoon searching through the remaining boxes, but the family tree I have folded in my pocket is the only thing I can find. It might be all I have to go on, but it makes one thing clear: when I didn’t think any of my fae ancestors were left, Jules was there the whole time. I can’t help wondering if he knew…

* * *

I’m on a train back to the city Sunday night after dinner with my family. I stare out the window, watching the farmland and greenery transition into suburbs, then highrises. Pulling my phone out, I hover over Tristan’s name for a second before opening a new message.

I’ll be back in the city twenty minutes from now and I’m coming to see you. Alone.

We need to talk so I can tell him what I found out about Jules, and I want to give him a heads up Nikolai won’t be tagging along for this meeting.

Marisa is standing behind the reception desk at the Westbrook Hotel when I arrive a half hour later after taking an Uber from the train station. I wave hello on my way to the elevators.

The ride up to the penthouse is uneventful. I’ve had enough ambushes on this damn elevator to last a lifetime… er, eternity. Whatever. I have given little thought to the idea that I’ll live forever. It’s too overwhelming. Living day by day is hard enough right now.

Stepping off the elevator into the small, simple entryway outside Tristan’s suite, I freeze before I get the chance to knock. This is ridiculous. I’ve been here countless times. I’ve even seen Tristan since I changed, and yet, my insides are still a mess of nerves. Despite the nerves, though, there’s also a flicker of excitement about having an excuse to see him, especially when Nikolai isn’t here to get into a pissing match.

I take a deep breath, trying to build up the will to reach up and knock. Before I get the chance, the door opens and Tristan stands there with a curious expression. He must’ve sensed my presence or heard me out here trying not to lose my shit. His eyes dance with amusement, making my stomach flip.I miss that. The way he affects me.

“Hi,” I say in a low voice.

“Aurora,” he greets smoothly. “You’ve never been the type to strike me as a booty call.”

My eyes widen, and I shake my head. “That’snotwhy I’m here.”

He wets his lips. “You texted me, ‘I’m coming to see you. Alone.’”

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