Faelorehn - Book One of the Otherworld Trilogy Read online

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  The next morning, before school, I slipped through my glass door for the first time in days and crept down onto the wide path leading into the swamp. It was another foggy morning, the cold dewy air rolling over my skin and clogging my lungs. I found the tree almost immediately; the only oak standing amidst the tall, pale-barked eucalyptus on this side of the woods. The knothole was a little harder to find, hidden by a branch and just out of reach.

  Once I located it, I glanced over my note once more, rolled it into a tube, and slipped it into the hollow of the tree. Making sure that no one was watching me, I climbed back up the hill, casting my eyes around and listening for Otherworldly creatures. Not until I was safely back inside my room, my door closed and locked behind me, did I wonder once again if I had made the right choice.

  -Eleven-

  Rescued

  I became obsessed with checking the oak tree for Cade’s response. That afternoon when I got home from school, I went down to see if my note was still lodged inside the knothole. It was. An unwelcome pang of disappointment overwhelmed me, but a few mornings later when I checked, it was gone.

  Giddy relief flooded my senses, and I had to tell myself it wasn’t because my chances of seeing Cade again had just increased. No, I wasn’t interested in him. First of all, he was in his early twenties, at least. Even if he wasn’t the serial killer my conscience kept trying to paint him as, he was too old for me. Nope, I just wanted to see him again because he might have some answers for me. But those eyes, dark green at first and as changeable as your own . . . a tiny voice whispered in my mind. Ah! Stop it Meg, I chastised myself, boys have never been interested in you, remember? Why would this time be any different? And since when have you not been afraid of him? He took on a half dozen of those hellhounds without getting so much as a scratch.

  I shivered, hugging my binder close. It was Friday, only four more days until I was going to meet him again. That is, if he was still willing to meet. I still hadn’t received an answer to my letter, and there was still plenty of time to remind myself that Cade MacRoich was closer to being an obsessive stalker than a charming college student I should in no way, shape or form be interested in.