15
I started back and whipped my head to my right. A shriveled man with a spry gait and piercing blue eyes stood a foot behind me. He was dressed in brown pants torn above the knees and a shirt that might have been white in some past life but was now a discolored yellow. Atop his wispy white tufts of hair was a cap that looked older than Xander’s real age.
There was nothing very unusual about him, but the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
I pointed at myself. “Are you talking to me?”
He grinned and showed off an impressive set of decayed chompers. “Who else would I be talkin’ to but a fae?”
A chill breeze blew over me and reminded me of my wet blunder. I shivered and wrapped the coat closer to myself as I looked away from the old man. “I don’t think I’m much of a fae.”
