Why Are All the Good Guys Total Monsters? Read Online Free Page A

phone call
from my mum in New York. I’d never heard her so excited. Basically, she’d had
the offer of a lifetime. I was over the moon for her. There was an opening for
a journalist on one of the prime time television slots in New York and she’d
been offered the job — a two year contract. She would be reporting her news
stories on national television. That’s if she accepted the job. But one thing
was making her unsure — me.
    ‘Grab it with both hands. It’s what you’ve always wanted,
what you’ve worked hard for,’ I said.
    ‘Yes, but what about you? They want me to work the next
couple of months in New York. I won’t make it to Edinburgh. And we’d have to
leave London for a couple of years. What about your school work?’
    They’d sprung the opportunity on her right out of thin air.
Apparently someone who admired her work had recommended her for the job at the
eleventh hour. They’d been looking for a go–getter journalist who was also easy
on the eye. Mum was a looker. She always had been. At thirty–four she could’ve
passed for twenty–six, and had a modern summery beauty going on.
    ‘You won’t get a chance like this again,’ I said. ‘Take it.
Take it for you, for us.’
    ‘It’s a lucrative deal, kiddo,’ she said in an excited
whisper.
    ‘Say yes, mum. Just say yes.’
    And so that’s what happened.
    I relaxed back on the sofa and drank a toast with my hot
chocolate. ‘To us, mum. Go get them!’
    Living in New York would be great. As for school, well I
intended going into journalism so being right in the heart of the Big Apple
with my mum working in the media would be no bad thing.
    Then the phone rang again. I assumed it was mum needing to
reassure herself that I really was okay with the plan. I was wrong. It was
Orlaith calling from Glasgow. She’d been offered the chance of a lifetime too.
    By now my mind was working overtime. What were the odds of
both of them being offered these? However, I brushed my suspicions aside as
Orlaith enthused about being invited to London to show her work at one of the
top galleries, with the promise of licensing. Someone had seen her paintings at
the exhibition in Glasgow and wanted to buy the rights to use her faerie and
flower images on prints, tableware and linen. It was another great money deal.
Of course I was delighted for her, and reassured her I’d be fine on my own.
Yes, Midnight was going with her. Even the cat was welcome.
    The whole deal was perfect. Too perfect?
    My mind drifted to Daire’s gorgeous face. It was perfect.
Perfect except for one flaw — the silvery scar. Arguably, Sabastien was
absolute perfection. His lilac eyes sparkling with hidden thoughts I couldn’t
fathom . . .
    Time must have slipped away, because when I blinked out of
my daydreaming, my hands were cupped around a mug of cold chocolate. Where had
the time gone? This thought was becoming too familiar. I took the cup through
to the kitchen and poured the dregs away.
    As I rinsed and dried it, I saw something flickering in the
depths of the garden outside the kitchen window.
    One word came to mind — faeries.
    I closed the kitchen blind, flicked off the light and went
through to the lounge, trying not to be tempted to peek through the patio
doors. Temptation got the better of me. I almost wished it hadn’t, because I
saw Sabastien standing in the garden.
    He knew I’d seen him.
    It crossed my mind to make a run for it out the front door
into the street, or call the police, but there was something about Sabastien
that made me hesitate. What was I going to say anyway? There was this gorgeous
guy in the garden and he was warning me about faeries. Yeah, I think they’d
lock me up first.
    ‘Please don’t worry,’ he shouted. ‘I lost something. I came
back to look for it.’
    He walked towards the house.
    ‘Stay where you are!’ I shouted, but he couldn’t hear me
clearly.
    He frowned.
    I hurried to the small vent on the patio doors and called to
him