Aside from her accident-prone ability to incite small, harmless fires (she was forever forgetting to shut off the burners) Margaret James had once been tearfully normal. She was a loving mother, a doting wife, a strong business leader. She told bed time stories and baked chocolate chip cookies and she had time to chastise when Margot and I slacked off on our homework. She was usually the first face to greet all of us in the morning, and the smell of her cooking was better than any alarm clock–which was exactly why I could picture my mom involved with Westley, no more than I could imagine introducing Westley to my dad. It was unthinkable, unimaginable and borderline perverse.
A gust of wind kicked up, shaking the trees as I crossed the lawn to my house. Every day in Harbor grew a little chillier. The minute you set foot outside, the cold was right there to remind you that winter was coming. With thoughts of a warm cup of tea in mind, I entered the foyer, hung my jacket and back pack on the coat stand, and then made my way to the kitchen. Tea was poured and sugar added before I headed to the living room to wait for Margie. Mondays she had afternoon volleyball practice.
Careful not to splash my mug, I took a seat on the couch, grabbed the remote, and told myself I would do nothing else but guzzle my tea and enjoy the steamy Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock Holmes. Yet no sooner had the rerun started than I felt a strange gush of wind. Frowning, I craned my neck behind me to see the white, lace curtains that dangled before the sliding glass doors stir ever so gently. All of a sudden the room felt chillier as goosebumps rippled across my skin. Filled with dread, I set my mug on the wooden end table, and got carefully to my feet.
I crossed the room and drew away a curtain. The door behind it was open, but only centimeters ajar. Whoever opened it had been too careless to notice that it hadn't closed all the way.
I snapped the door shut and hastily locked it, knowing full well it had been closed when I'd left for school that morning. I turned to face the rest of the living room, frantically scanning it for more signs of the intruder.
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Faetality |✓|
Teen Fiction❝You and me, darlin', we're gonna have a whale of a time...❞ Shortly after her sixteenth birthday, Tamsyn James has her first encounter with the Fae - a deadly group of beings from a place called the Otherworld. Not long after finding out she's one...
