Avery has until the winter solstice to find the final piece in the fairy queen's plan. In exchange: his family's lives and freedom.
Logan has been protecting the town of Dwyer from mythological threats for years. The destruction of the entire world...
Nineteen: Logan September 24, 11:00 PM. Dwyer, VA.
I had fallen asleep mid-brood with my phone on my chest; Avery's call wakes me up. I roll over before I really realize what's happening. I hear myself make an aggravated, half-asleep sound that I didn't tell myself to make. "Sorry if I woke you up." I rub at my eyes but don't open them. "No. You didn't. I can't sleep." "...Everything alright?" Something is definitely wrong with his voice, if not me, at least. "My mom's pissed, but it's not a big deal. What's up with you?" He's silent for a while. I almost fall back asleep before he speaks: "I... Can I come over?" Some stupid, half-conscious part of me acts in its own interests before consulting the intelligent rest of me. I hear myself say, " 'Course. Stand at the side. Don't get caught. I'll meet you." Rustling comes from Avery's end of the line. He hangs up a second later. I immediately forget everything I said to him. I'm not quite asleep when he texts me.
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It takes me a few seconds to remember what he's talking about and push myself into action. I make my way down the stairs to the basement door. Even if my mom wasn't mad at me, I'd still use the basement door to get Avery inside. Actually, I'd probably just tell him he couldn't come over at all, but since my mother called me today--and I quote--'Rebellious', what the Hell, y'know? I cut through the basement and unlock the exit door on the other side. I've never actually broken the rules this much before. I mean, Don't Sneak a Boy in Through the Basement was never really explicitly established as a rule, but... yeah, I'll still get gutted for it. The exit door opens into a dry well lined with gravel and surrounded by plants, only a few feet deep. Avery's standing just outside the well with his thumbs in his pockets. He's wearing his pastel yellow t-shirt again, which I've started to notice means he might be having a crisis. He definitely looks like he's having a crisis. He lowers himself into the well when I show up. "I guess we've both been having a terrible time." I'm referring to his face--he's obviously been crying; he's not smiling. He doesn't say anything. Instead, he reaches up to rest his palm on my cheek. His expression doesn't change at all. I can't help but feel like he's not just looking at me. He's appraising or something. He runs his thumb over my cheekbone. That catches me off guard, and I think he sees it on my face; he freezes. He leans in to kiss me. I realize I haven't moved or said anything this entire time. He pulls back, his hand still on my face. My lips feel cold where his used to be pressed close. "Please bring me inside."
I use the basement door because my parents' bedroom is diagonal to both the stairway up to my room and the front door, and the basement is on the other side. Both my parents are out of range--my mom always sleeps on her anger and my dad's at an art show; it's safer bringing Avery in this way. I shut the door behind us, listening for the soft click. I'm pretty sure I'm not as rebellious as either my mom or I think I am, because I know with a sudden certainty I wouldn't have dared to do this if my bedroom door didn't have a lock. Avery's already made himself at home, lying on my bed and staring up at the ceiling. Definitely having a crisis. I take a seat on the edge of the bed. "Take off your shoes." He doesn't answer. I get even with him face-wise, getting on my stomach and propping my chin up with my hand. My arm is unstable on the mattress. "What's up with you?" He swallows and doesn't speak for a few more dramatic seconds. "Fought with my sister." I know he has a sister, but I've never met her. All I know is she's younger than him and that he adores her. I've never heard of them fighting before. "That fucking sucks." "I know." He shifts towards me a little, finally knocking my elbow loose. He doesn't seem surprised. I have to laugh, I keep my arm cast over his stomach and my cheek against his shoulder. "This what you wanted?" "Wanted to sleep," he says. He brushes through the hair at my temple. "But I can't. So this is good, too." We're both silent. He keeps brushing back my hair. I'm two seconds away from falling back asleep. "I can't sleep before you," I say. "You're in my house." He laughs, quiet.
