Briar Queen_ A Night and Nothing Novel - Katherine Harbour Page 0,2
white hyena, his mortal mask an angelic-looking psycho. He had served Reiko Fata, the queen of a people who only mimicked being human. “So is every Fata in America an outcast or a criminal?”
“Not all. The native Fatas are lawful, but keep to themselves.”
“What about Reiko’s court? Are they all outcasts? And Phouka?” She thought of the punk-elegant girl now in charge of the Fatas.
“Renegades, outlaws, outcasts, all.” Jack tucked a sheaf of hair behind one ear. “And Phouka is still a mystery to me.”
“And Absalom Askew?”
“And him.”
She knew Jack walked in the woods at night to meet with his friends. He still had his apartment above the abandoned cinema. He continued to work for Murray, the collector of antique automata and electronic games. Jack, stolen by the Fatas in the 1800s, had lived for nearly two hundred years among the ones who called themselves the children of night and nothing. They had tried to sacrifice him, and failed, and turned him into a Frankenstein creature, heartless and bloodless. He was flesh and blood now, as he’d wanted to be for two hundred years.
She didn’t tell him about her dream of Reiko Fata, his burning queen of shadows.
JACK’S PRESENCE, AS USUAL, CAUSED FRICTION between Finn and her two best friends. As the four of them met on the grounds of HallowHeart College, in Origen Hall’s snowy courtyard, Christie, his cheeks flushed and his dark red hair sticking out from beneath a woolen hat patterned with Celtic symbols, avoided looking at Jack. Sylvie watched Jack as if he were a lovely beast that might pounce. She toed the frosty leaves, twitched at her dark braids, and narrowed her eyes.
Christie spoke as if Jack wasn’t standing right there. “I thought HallowHeart’s core curriculum was to keep his kind away. He’s going to classes now?”
“Not yet.” Jack smiled.
Christie finally looked at him. “You nearly got Finn killed. And Sylvie. And me.”
“But you’re not dead, are you? Because, if you were, you’d notice.”
“I still have nightmares about those doll-things with all the teeth. So does Sylvie. Right, Sylv?”
“Well, not real—”
“Phouka saved you from the Grindylow.” Jack spoke patiently. “How is Phouka, by the way?”
“I wouldn’t know. You would.” Christie hunched up and returned to ignoring him.
“I don’t think I know her as well as you do.” Jack smiled again, and Finn wanted to pull his hair.
“Why is he still talking to me?” Christie pointedly addressed Sylvie, who slid to her feet and flashed a grin at Jack, who smiled back—this time, not like the devil. Sylvie said, “Walk with me, Jack?”
“It would be a pleasure, Sylvie Whitethorn.”
As Jack strolled onward with her, the two of them chatting like old friends, Finn turned on Christie. “Why are you being such a—”
“He’s antagonizing me.”
“He’s not. You’re acting like a child.”
“Compared to him, I am a child. So are you.”
“Christie, stop.”
He bowed his head and said, “What about Nathan Clare? And Angyll Weaver? And that psycho Caliban is still on the loose. People died because of Jack, Finn.”
Finn’s throat tightened when she thought of Nathan Clare, the boy Reiko Fata had tricked into a life meant for sacrifice. He’d been missing since Halloween night. His adoptive family—now led by Reiko’s former lieutenant, Phouka—had spun it so that, to the general public, Reiko and Nathan had moved to Europe. “We don’t know about Nathan.”
“We do know, Finn. And the only thing that’s different about Jack now is that he doesn’t smell like a night forest full of roses anymore.”
She stared at him. He said, “What?”
“Nothing. You’re just very odd.”
“I’m odd? Have you taken a look at your boyfriend lately?”
“Shall I sigh dreamily and say ‘Every chance I can get’?”
“I’m sad for you, Finn. I really am.”
JACK HAWTHORN CREATED A RIPPLE EFFECT in the corridors of Armitrage Hall. Walking beside him, Finn tried to ignore the stares of the other students. The rumor was he’d left his rich family to romantically survive on his own, even changing his name . . . all for Finn. There were a few who knew the truth, the privileged pretty boys and girls known as the blessed.
One of the blessed stepped into their path—Aubrey Drake held up a hand and smiled charmingly. His black hair was clubbed back, and his brown skin glowed as if he’d just returned from a tropical vacation. “Peace, Finn. Jack, I need to talk to you. There are some things happening.”
“I don’t recall”—Jack spoke in that idle tone that meant he was politely avoiding savagery—“needing your advice about