Fairydale

by Veronica Lancet

What could possibly go wrong in a town that rhymes with fairytale?

"Miss Darcy," Mr. Vaughan suddenly calls my name. My head whips up, my gaze connecting with his in the rearview mirror. His lips are pulled into a twisted smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Yes?" I flutter my lashes in confusion. "You're not wet," he states in a deadpan voice, a heaviness underlying his words. I slowly bring my eyes to my body, patting my clothes and my hair and realizing that, indeed, I am not wet. "It must have been the direction of the wind," I murmur, barely fighting the shock of the discovery. Yet the excuse sounds ludicrous even to my own ears. "It must," he agrees, though his expression belies his words.

Wtf

It's at that moment that Vicky—who I presume to be my late father's wife—looks past Mr. Vaughan and notices me. Her lips pull into a thin line as her eyes move over my form, appraising me from head to toe. "Miss Darcy O'Sullivan, I assume," she murmurs, her voice dropping an octave.

"She's not wet," she whispers, her gaze finding Mr. Vaughan. "So she isn't," he replies tersely, and I get the sensation that there's a hidden meaning to their exchange.

"Pleased to meet you," I shake August's hand before I try to do the same with Grace. She's around my height, her hair a dark brown while her eyes are a light green. Her upper lip twitches as she meets my gaze, and releasing a loud huff, she turns, snubbing my salute.

"Well, I expected Fairydale to be more…happy. We don't always get what we want," I reply immediately, a little more sarcastic than intended.

"You're not a ghost," I state, quite foolishly. His mouth curves up in a smile that threatens to make my insides explode—from fear or fascination, I don't know.

"Hale," he states. "Caleb Hale."

"That time will come," he murmurs, his knuckles caressing my cheek. "Soon, Lizzie mine. Soon, you'll be all mine."

"Amon. Amon d'Artan," he answers the unspoken question, his voice a soft caress.

He rattled me. And that uneasiness I felt? It was purely my physical reaction to him. At the same time, though, the two men could not be any different. Whereas with Caleb I'd felt a predominant sense of unease, with Amon I'd found the greatest peace…

"Caleb Hale was there, too. He can confirm it," I declare proudly, pushing my chin up. But his reaction is not what I expected. His lips spread into an insidious grin before he laughs out loud. "Caleb Hale?" his amusement doubles, especially as my brows shoot up in confusion. "He ain't right in the head, Miss Darcy. He's been that way since he came back from the war in Korea. My advice, stay the hell away from him. He's bad news."

The creature is off me, taking a step back and howling at the new presence. Slumping to the ground, I can barely catch my breath as pain radiates from my belly, blood gushing out in rivulets. Yet as I look at the creature, I find it on its knees, seemingly being attacked from all directions by an invisible force.

"That is what awaits you. And everyone in Fairydale. Hell," he emphasizes the word, giving me a pitiful look before turning to leave.

"Some entities are playful, but not all have good intentions," he whispers in my ear. "There are a lot of bad energies in Fairydale, Darcy. And all of them only want one thing." "What?" "To consume you."

"It's irreversible, Lizzie. The binding spell your mother put on you is irreversible. Your mark will never be active."

"You…" I take a step outside the divider, narrowing my eyes at him. "Has anyone told you how arrogant you are?" His eyes sparkle. "Has anyone told you how fucking sexy you are?"

"You are," Caleb states as he comes closer in the rhythm of the dance, his breath caressing my lips. "Mine," he continues. "Mine. Mine. Mine, Darcy," he chants, his eyes a cloudy gathering of lust, desire and something more…

"We are absolutely sure. Once your daughter is mated to another man, Amon will no longer have a claim over her," the man assures her,

"They assume that if you were touched by another I would renounce my claim on you, which is erroneous from three points of view," he says matter-of-factly as he raises three fingers. "One, you're mine. No buts, no conditions or prerequisites. You're simply mine." His words make me warm and fuzzy so I nod along. "Two, no man would ever get close enough to you to do so." I roll my eyes at that, since I haven't forgotten his little stunt with Viscount Berkley. Did he really have to scar the man for dancing with me? "And three," he smirks arrogantly. "You would never let another man touch you."

Yet as he opens his eyes, I'm struck by the change of color in his irises as they swirl a deep red. Surely not… Surely it's just a play of shadows…

And if Amon is not a demon, what is he?