Page 5 of Avalon Tower

She’s overflowed the sink so many times.

“Well, I can’t remember everything when it’s just me on my own.”

“Please try to eat well,” I say. “I left out tons of healthy groceries for you.”

Something catches my eye outside. There’s an alleyway across from this café, and a bright crimson smear streaks across the ground. What is that?

"It’s my birthday," I say, trying to focus. “You were in labor for ten hours, remember?”

It’s her favorite thing to say on my birthday.

“Today? Nia, you keep getting older.” She makes it sound like an accusation.

“Well, it’s better than the alternative, right?”

I’m staring at that bright streak of red, but my view is blocked by a group of tourists who walk by, dressed in costumes like the Fey—sheer materials in rich colors, burgundy and chartreuse. One of them drops a bit of jewelry—a blue crystal pendant—but the woman doesn’t seem to notice.

“My little Nia, all grown up,” Mom is saying. “You know, I was already doing modeling jobs when I was—”

“Fourteen. You’re still so pretty, Mom.” I tap on the glass to try to get the woman’s attention, but she doesn’t seem to hear me. She keeps walking, and her beautiful blue jewel gleams on the sidewalk.

A heavy sigh from Mom. “Well, I have crow’s feet now.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t look a day over nineteen. Mom, I have to go. I’ll call you soon.”

“You’d better. Because you left me here, all by my—”

I hang up and push out the back door of the café. I pick up the jewel from the sidewalk and glance at it. It’s beautiful, otherworldly, and it gleams in the sunlight.

“Excusez-moi!” I call out.

The woman turns around, and I hurry closer to the group, smiling. “You dropped this,” I say in French.

But as I look closer at them, my smile starts to fade. They’re not wearing costumes, I realize. They are actual Fey, and some of them have delicately pointed ears.

Or more likely, they’re demi-Fey. Are they fugitives? Their gossamer clothes are ripped and dirty.

My pulse races. The Fey soldiers aren’t far from here. Did Jules say they’d be slaughtered on the spot? Or dragged back across the veil?

They aren’t wearing shoes, and the fear in their expressions is clear. It’s the same look that Mom gets after too much coke. One of them even looks like her, with dark hair and gaunt cheeks. A blonde woman staggers next to her, hugging herself. Her eyes look haunted, too.

If someone like Jules catches them, he’ll send them straight to their deaths.

One of them is just a bony little boy with haunted eyes and emaciated cheeks.

Children need looking after. The thought screams in my mind.

I glance back to that alleyway. With sickening clarity, I can now see that crimson smear of blood brushed over the stone—as if someone had dragged a dead body backward. My stomach turns. What’s going on here?

I quickly hand the jewel over to the woman. “You dropped this.”

She grabs my arm. “Alix? Rein?” Her accent is one I don’t recognize.

I stare at her in confusion. “No, that’s not me. I’m sorry.”

I glance past her. A woman is leaning out of her doorway, glaring at us. She wears a pinched expression. “Who are you?” the woman barks in French. She’s glaring directly at me. Now I’m under suspicion.

Am I about to be turned in? Am I about to be a blood smear on the pavement?