The Changeling's Ghost (Thirteen Gates #1)

Gwyllgies and Getting Along

I'm definitely not getting attached to Gus. There's no reason why I should be forming any sort of attachment. We constantly tick each other off and get on each other's nerves. I keep him up at night when I'm getting homework done or half-heartedly putting aside a due visit to the Bodleian Library. He keeps me up when he's shuffling around in the wee hours of the morning while I pretend to be asleep. He's tidy when I prefer organized chaos. I'm a constant disappointment and he's the Shiny New Poster Boy. In every situation, in every single alternate timeline, we should hate each other's guts. And I do. Or at least that's what I've been trying to convince myself as of late.

"I see you've been getting along with our guest lately." Mum remarked over the lip of an old manuscript (as always).

I was so startled by this statement that I choked on air.

"No I haven't?" I insisted, way too defensively.

She shot me a dubious look.

"Mum, I literally hate him."

"You two are getting along just fine, Asher. Just like all the other boys your age."

I narrowed my eyes, because I'm sure she'd love for me to be like all the other pig-headed, significantly less cute, whippersnappers living in Dinshire. Was there any truth to her statement? Absolutely not. Was I disappointed that Gus wanted to tend to business with Sheryl instead of traipsing through the faerie realms with me? Absolutely not--okay a little bit, but it's because I have work to do and he's delaying that.

That's what he does. He's stopped me from solving our family problems.

Mum ruffled my hair tenderly. "I've got my own homework to do dearie, why don't you run into town and see if they've got anything new in the local library?"

I stared up at her weraily and noticed there was the glassy look in her eyes that came back whenever she was preoccupied, multitasking, or too stressed. It made me feel guilty.

"Mum. It's me Asher." I sighed.

She glanced up from her book, eyebrows shooting up in surprise and then in embarrassment. "Sorry, Asher. Go run along and do whatever you want in town then. Take Gus with you."

"Gus is busy."

She handed me a tired look. "Asher, please?"

"Right, I'll see you later then. Even later if Gus joins me."

She didn't reply, just nodded slightly and bit down on the end of a pen.

I slipped into the first gate and activated my integral from its keychain form and into the familiar shape of the crossbow in my hand. Then, instead of going into the town I retreated back into the woods. It was quieter, more peaceful, with significantly less trickster fae. I headed towards the area I had been a few weeks ago when I chased down the sylph and the other larger fae, I'm guessing another sub species of sylph. Those were the ones that tend to look more humanoid. To my relief, my arrows were still there and I busied myself in collecting the ones I had deemed to much of a hassle to get last time. One of them was about three meters up in a tree (a particularly bad shot of mine) and I had to summon my inner squirrel in order to retrieve it. Anything was easier and less time consuming than making more.

I sat there for a bit, scanning my surroundings. Part of me had hoped to find the arrow that had it the larger fae, but if she was smart, she probably didn't pull it out till she returned to her base. That was shame. I also had no other ideas for keeping myself busy, but that wasn't something I would let Gus catch onto. Even though chances are he probably already knew. I made a mental note to add that to the list of things that get on my nerves.

The bushes rustled slightly a little ways off from the spot where I perched, it scared me out of my thoughts. I stared into the leaves, wondering if my position was compromised while trying to make out if this was supernatural or not. I had just begun to dismiss it as an opossum when I could have sworn I spotted two jaded green eyes staring at me intently from within the thick of it.

I stood up immediately, nearly tripping over myself as I walked over. I had to be hallucinating, because I recognized those eyes--squinty, full of self-importance, with the demeaning downward tint I had grown to resent and the slight glimmer of ambition I respected so highly.