The first time I saw James Monaghan, he couldn't see me. He was running towards the golden hills at a dead sprint, and I drifted behind him, invisible and protected. The boy had captured my interest only a day or so ago. His music sang to me in ways that I couldn't comprehend, and I wanted him so bad that my body almost stumbled from it. I had heard him, though, before I had seen him, and just like that, my choice was made obvious. He would be mine, his music would be mine, and he would die. It was the same as every other talented male I had had in the past. They were mine until they died.
Now, following James, I couldn't harm him. He was not aware I existed, was not aware that I was stalking him, and he hadn't said yes. Now, all I could do was want him. And I did. So badly.
Before I could see where he was hurrying to, something snagged my arm, and I jerked to a stop. A faerie, smaller than I was, glowing green and smiling wide, winked at me.
"Let go of me, you maggot," I snarled, irritated that I had lost James.
The faerie released me, but stepped closer. "I know what you are," he whispered, teasingly.
I stared at the little creature. "Oh, you do?"
"Yes," he laughed, and he began to dance around me, skipping and leaping through the tall grass. "And I know what will happen to you if you do not kill that human."
I sneered at him. "You know nothing."
"Oh, but I do, leanan sidhe. I do, I do!" The faerie spun in circles that I couldn't follow. My head began to throb with his swirling motions, and so I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore him, only to gasp moments later when I felt the faerie's breath against my ear. "You're going to die!" he giggled.
I opened my eyes and threw my arm sideways, hoping to smack the little monster in the head, but he swooped beneath me and skipped back a few paces, beaming.
"Leave me alone," I said, firmly.
"As you wish!" the faerie sang. And then, within one breath and the next, he was gone.
I fumed silently where I stood in the grass. I felt vulnerable, as if by having the faerie state my inevitable doom, others would have heard. I glanced around me, but the only thing I saw was the tall grass, the dorms at the bottom of the hill, and specks of students walking along the sidewalk. I didn't think they could see me, not quite yet, and so I retreated over the hill, hoping that maybe I hadn't lost James, and could find him alone.
Standing at the top of the hill, I could see everything—the dorms, the distant forest, the lake, the mountains. The one thing that I couldn't see was James, and that irritated me to no end. Damn that daoine sidhe for stopping me. Damn him for knowing what I was. Damn him for knowing what would happen to me. And for a moment, that's all I could think about. I was a leanan sidhe, and I fed on handsome, young, talented males to stay alive. Well, if "alive" is what I wanted to call myself. Because by the end of the month, I would be burned. I would walk willingly—as I always have for the past who knows how long—into the fire, so that I could burn until I died, and wait for a new me to rise out of the ashes. I wondered what I would appear as, because each time I looked different. Same girl, no memories, different appearance. It never ended.
I sulked until the sun had fallen to the bottom of the sky, casting the landscape into deep violets. It was then that I realized I had wasted hours worrying over my unstoppable fate, while I could have been making beautiful, beautiful music with James. I had to find him; I had to find him now. I pushed myself away from the ground, dry leaves swirling at my feet, and ghosted to the dorms, becoming visible just as I landed on the back patio. No one was outside, and I couldn't feel any human thoughts—other than the ones inside, sleeping or not paying attention—so I didn't have to worry about being seen. I didn't bother glancing at myself to see if I looked good—the way James wanted me to look would be how I'd appear.
My feet were silent as I went upstairs, walking down the hall to James' dorm. I slid through the door, my powers still strong, and I placed myself at the foot of his bed.
He was beautiful, just as his music was. His long body was stretched across the bed, his arms lying by his side. His red-auburn hair seemed nearly black in the darkness, and his lips were parted slightly, taking the oxygen in so carefully I wondered how he survived the nights. I wanted to touch him, but he wasn't yet mine, and so I stayed put. I could barely catch the tenor of his dream, and when I pushed myself into his mind, goosebumps rose on his skin, dancing along his forearms. His breathing hitched, and then he jerked awake, immediately popping up into a sitting position. He blinked and stared at me, not even looking the least bit frightened. That disappointed me.
"Oh, shit," he said, his eyes roving over me. "Not one of You."