Page 90 of Harnessed in Gold

“You okay?” she asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I babble, finally unearthing my phone. “I’m so sorry, but I need to… can you let me out? Just for a sec?”

With a concerned expression, she slides out of the booth and steps back, letting me by.

I call over my shoulder as I dash for the exit, “I’ll be right back.”

Once I’ve burst out the door, I slow down and try to blend in. I don’t think Brier’s team would recognize me, but I don’t want to give away the fact that not only am I someone who can see them, I’m also following them.

The trio saunters down the hill, looking relaxed and unhurried. They glance in windows as they dodge the people on the sidewalk, but nobody acknowledges their existence. Believe me, if people could see them, they’d get noticed. Tall, striking, intimidating.Everything Leo, Rime, and Topaz are, even in their glamoured forms.

I stand on the edge of a group of sorority girls as I frantically type out a message on my phone:B’s team is on main st. I send it to Leo, I think. Maybe it was Rime. Whoever it goes to, I hope they can make sense of it. A text comes back almost immediately from Rime:We’re coming. Keep them in sight.

Wherever he, Leo, and Topaz are, I doubt they’re more than five minutes away. I glance over each shoulder—who the hell knows why—before I start down the hill, hugging the storefronts and trying to look casual. Another message sends my phone dancing in my hand.

Leo: Don;tlet them seeu

What a hot mess of a text. And an insult to my intelligence.

I stay back a good fifty feet, not because Leo told me to, but because I have common sense. The female fae’s dark red ponytail swings as she walks—no, as she slinks. Just like Topaz. Is that what all fae women do? No wonder Rime’s so charmed by the typical, ingenuous Brownhill girl. The threesome screech to a halt, point at a display window, and cheerfully laugh. Next thing I know, they’re ducking into the little corner drugstore, the tallest guy pulling open the door and ushering the other two in before going through.

To the nearby humans, would that look like a door opening and closing all on its own?

I pick up the pace, dashing past an insurance office and cutting through a group of obviously stoned guys debating whether to go in for some Combos. Luckily, they come in right after me, drawing everyone’s attention with their girlish giggling and sloppy gesticulations. Over the top of the greeting card rack, the tall fae studies them with intense, crystal-blue eyes. Like Rime, he looks like some sort of Scandinavian god.

With normal human ears.

It looks like the fae have made themselves visible in order to shop.

I slip into the shampoo aisle and shoot off another message:Hoffman’s Drugstore.

Rime: We’re almost there.

I pace distractedly, pretending to be looking at conditioners and nervously tapping the back of my phone to the beat of “Billie Jean” playing over the speaker. What are Rime, Leo, and Topaz going to do when they get here? Is there gonna be a faerie battle in this poor mom-and-pop store?

No, that would be stupid. If Brier’s team sees them, they would know they’ve come to the right place. That the macguffin is here in Alderford. No, surely Rime’s intent is to merely follow them. Find out where they’re staying and how much they know. They could very well be closer to finding the weapon than we are.

I type back to Rime, hoping they’re still in the car and he can reply:Can you use glamours on each other?

The answer is rushed and simple:No.

So he, Topaz, and Leo will have to stay hidden the old-fashioned way.

Movement at the end of the aisle catches my attention. Reflexively, I look up—straight into the face of the female fae. Her violet eyes widen in surprise, then narrow.

Shit. She has pointed ears. Unlike the male fae, she’s supposed to be invisible.

I gulp and look away. I’m so fucked. Curling my hands into my sweater sleeves, I pretend to browse the styling gels.

Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her.

When I feel her getting closer, I stroll to the end of the aisle and turn down the one with the snacks. And the stoners.

“Heyyyy,” one of them drawls, gazing at me through bloodshot, slitted eyes. “You’re pretty. Want some pretzels?” He holds out an open bag of Rold Golds.

Normally I wouldn’t engage with a pack of unfamiliar men, but they’re a lot less threatening when they’re baked than when they’re drunk. And right now they’re the perfect refuge from the predatoryfaerie on the hair care aisle. An opportunity to play casual like I didn’t just look right into the eyes of a fae who’s supposed to be invisible.

I give pretzel boy a half-smile. “Did you pay for those?”