A Fairy Tale by Shanna Swendson Page B

food?”
    “I enjoy it, but I can only eat human food that is offered as a gift. Otherwise, it is poison. Alas, as the old beliefs have faded, few leave gifts of food for the fae anymore.”
    “You ate apple pie in the diner. I saw you.”
    He shook his head sadly. “Mere illusion. I have never tasted apple pie.”
    “Well, that’s just sad.” She shook a couple of peanuts into her hand and held her palm out to him. He carefully picked up one nut and placed it in his mouth. He chewed slowly and carefully, savoring the experience, before taking the second nut. “Was it good for you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and wondering what he’d do with chocolate.
    He nodded. “It was wonderful,” he said breathlessly. Then he seemed to come to a decision. He took her hand. “We must go, now.”
    She wasn’t going to argue with that. She let him lead her to the door, but before they reached it, another door flew open and Maeve’s goons burst into the library. “There she is!” one of them said. “That is the one, right?”
    “Yes, that’s the one,” the other said.
    Eamon didn’t have to tell her to run. She sprinted for the front door. But she couldn’t reach it. No matter how hard she ran, she got no closer. It was like someone had thrown a rope around her waist and was pulling her backward into the goons’ grasp. Her hand slipped from Eamon’s as she was pulled away.
    She expected him to fight for her and wouldn’t at all have minded becoming the center of a tug-of-war, but all he did was stand there. As the goons dragged her out of the library, she shouted sarcastically, “Enjoy the rest of the peanuts!” She wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted that to count as an official offering.

 
Eleven
     
    New York City—Emily’s Apartment
    Wednesday, 5:45 p.m.
     
    Sophie nearly missed her footing on the stairs in her haste to get away from Michael’s apartment, and she had to unlock Emily’s door by feel because her vision was blurred by tears. She made it down the short entry hall and into the apartment’s main room before her legs gave way and she collapsed, her skirt billowing, then settling around her as she fell. Once she was alone, she let her sobs shake her whole body.
    She’d known Emily was in danger because of her, because she’d been so stupid and selfish and ambitious. She hadn’t known at first that there would be a cost, but she’d realized it soon enough, and learning that hadn’t stopped her until they’d gone after Emily. She’d given up everything then and hoped that sending her sister away would keep her safe. It had never occurred to her that anyone else would be affected, but now she knew. Detective Murray had lost his wife, merely because she bore a passing resemblance to Emily and fairies thought all humans looked more or less alike.
    If they’d told her they’d make her the greatest dancer ever in exchange for her sister, she’d never have agreed to the bargain. But she’d assumed she’d be the one to pay the price, and she was willing. She should have known, though. In all the stories, it was someone else who was taken as payment for a favor—a first-born child, a beloved daughter, a lover, a sister.
    Then again, there was always a loophole, a way to redeem the one who’d been taken or to sidestep the bargain entirely. She just had to find the loophole. Or maybe a more direct payment would suffice. It wasn’t as though she’d be giving up much, and at least she wouldn’t have to deal with the garden club anymore. Her sobs trailed off, and she got herself back under control.
    Beau ambled over and dropped his head in her lap. She buried the fingers of her left hand in the wrinkles on the back of his neck and wiped the tears off her face with her right hand. She attempted a brave smile, even though there was no one there to appreciate it. “Those are turning out to be incredibly expensive dance lessons, and what good did they do me? I could have taught ballet to