“How would you have known earlier?”

“Your voice.”

“Huh?” But my heart began to beat harder, as if it knew something my head hadn’t quite caught on to.

“Last Friday at lunch, I heard you and Emma talking about sneaking into Taboo, and couldn’t get you out of my head. Your voice stuck with me, like after I truly heard you that first time, I couldn’t stop hearing you. Your voice carries above everything else. I can find you in a crowd even if I can’t see you, so long as you’re talking. But I didn’t know why. I just knew I needed to talk to you outside of school, and that you’d be at the club on Saturday night.”

Suddenly I couldn’t catch my breath. My lungs seemed too big for my chest, and I couldn’t make them fully expand. “You followed me to Taboo?” His admission made my head spin, questions and confessions both battling for the right to speak first. But I couldn’t think clearly enough to focus on them.

“Yeah.” He sounded so matter-of-fact, as if it should be no big surprise that a hot, out-of-my-league guy would go to a club on a Saturday night just to see me. “I wanted to talk to you.”

I swallowed thickly and stared at my hands. I could hardly believe what I was about to tell him. “When you talk to me, I feel like everything’s okay, even when things are really falling apart. Why?” I looked up then and met his gaze, searching for the truth even if I wouldn’t understand it. “What did you do to me?”

“Nothing. Nothing on purpose, anyway.” He squeezed my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “We truly hear each other because we’re the same. I’m a bean sidhe, Kaylee. Just like my mom and dad, and at least one of your parents. Just like you.”

Just like me. Was it possible? My instinct was to say no. To shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut until I was sure the crazy dream was over. Really, though, was being a bean sidhe any weirder than being plagued with premonitions of death?

But even if it was true, something didn’t fit….

“In the stories there are no male bean sidhes.”

“I know.” Nash scowled and let go of my hand to cross his arms over his chest. “The stories come from what humans know about us, and they only seem to know about the ladies. You girls are pretty hard to miss, with all the screaming and wailing.”

“Ha ha.” I started to shove him, then froze in the act of raising my arm. I’d just defended—albeit jokingly—a species I claimed not to belong to. Or even believe in.

And that’s when it hit me. When the whole thing sank in.

Yes, it sounded crazy. But it felt right. And little pieces of it actually made sense, in a way that was more intuitive than logical.

My throat felt swollen, and my eyes began to burn with tears of relief. Being not-human wasbetter than being crazy. And infinitely better than dying of cancer. But most important, having answers—even weird answers—was better than not knowing. Than doubting myself.

“I’m a bean sidhe?” Two tears fell before I could banish them, and I wiped the rest away with my sleeve. Nash nodded solemnly, and I repeated it, just to get used to the idea. “I’m a bean sidhe.”

Saying it out loud helped that last little bit of certainty slip into place, and I felt my chest loosen. One long breath slipped from my throat, and I sank into the car seat, staring out the windshield at a sunset I barely noticed. A tension I hadn’t even felt began to ease through my body.

Nash had given me one answer, but he’d brought to mind dozens of others, and I needed more information. Immediately.

“So why doesn’t anyone know about male bean sidhes? And if you’re a guy, wouldn’t that make you more of a male sidhe?”

He reached for his drink, and the muscles in his arm shifted beneath skin tinted red in the last rays of sunlight. “Unfortunately, the term was coined by humans, who don’t know male bean sidhes exist, because we don’t wail. We don’t get the premonitions.”

I frowned. “So what makes you a bean sidhe? I mean, how are you different from…humans?” Even having accepted my new identity, it felt weird to refer to myself as other than human.

He leaned against Carter’s car-door handle and took another long drink before answering. “We have other abilities. But what I can do won’t make much sense to you until you know what you can do.”

I shook my head, uncomprehending. “I thought I was a death herald.”

“That’s what you are, not what you can do. At least, that’s not all you can do.”

9

I LEANED FORWARD, angling my knee to avoid the gearshift, more curious than I wanted to admit as I waited for the rest of it. But he twisted to peer out his window. “My legs are getting stiff. Let’s walk.” He pushed his door open without waiting for my reply.

“What?” I demanded, leaning over the console to watch as he stretched in the parking lot, muscles bunching and shifting as he pulled both arms over his head. “You’re going to keep me in suspense?”

“No, just in motion.” I groaned with impatience, and he ducked into the car to grin at me. “What, you can’t walk and talk at the same time?” Then his grin widened and he slammed the door in my face. I had no choice but to follow.

Automatic lights flared to life as I stepped onto the concrete, bathing the entire lot, the adjacent, deserted playground, and part of the pier in a soft yellow glow. I circled the car and gave him my hand when he reached for it. “Fine, I’m walking. Start—”