A Fae Bargain from the Frat Party

At last week's frat party, I lost a game.

The penalty: ask a Ouija board a single question.

I couldn't remember what I actually asked, only that the planchette spun wildly before locking dead onto a single letter.

That night, I dreamed of a little boy with blond hair and blue eyes.

He claimed to be a Fae whom I had accidentally "freed" during the game. To repay the debt, he promised me three chances to strike it rich.

The first time, he told me to go to the campus coffee shop at four in the afternoon.

"Today's hundredth customer at the cafe gets ten thousand dollars in cash!"

I hadn't dared to skip class. Later, I heard that a girl received the ten grand, only to drop dead on the track field shortly after.

The second time, he gave me a string of Powerball numbers, swearing they would hit the jackpot.

I was swamped with my part-time job and figured playing later wouldn't hurt. When I scrolled through my phone after my shift, I saw the news: the guy who won the grand prize had driven drunk that same night and snapped his neck in a crash.

The third time, he told me to go to the small woods near my apartment.

"Someone's going to drop a Rolex there. Hurry up and grab it!"

I was too scared to go. That same day, someone posted on the campus forum that a body had been found in those woods, clutching a Rolex. The ultimate cause of death was a snakebite.

When I dreamed of him again, I finally snapped.

"Didn't you say you were repaying a debt? Why does someone die every time I go where you tell me? What the hell do you want!"

The little boy's eyes grew red with grievance.

"I just wanted to make you rich. Is it wrong to repay you like that?"

I figured since the three chances were used up, he wouldn't come back.

But three nights later, he slipped into my dreams again.

This time, he was practically vibrating with excitement.

"Darling, since you didn't get the money the first three times, I'll find another way to help you."

He lunged forward and hugged my legs tight.

"I'll crawl into your tummy and be your baby! Then I can bring Mommy wealth every single day, and Mommy will have more money than she could ever count!"

My eyes snapped open, and my very first thought was of Liam.

I threw off the blanket and charged into the living room. Liam sat cross-legged on the couch, glaring at his laptop screen and tearing at his hair in frustration.

"Liam!"

He didn't even look up. "Keep it down. I'm looking at next semester's tuition bill."

I rushed over and slammed his laptop shut, my voice trembling. "That Ouija board from the party was definitely cursed! I dreamed about that little blond monster again!"

Annoyed, Liam tried to pry the screen back open. "Mia, I don't have time for your horror movie plots right now. If we don't come up with two grand by next week, we're both getting kicked out of school."

"Shut up and listen to me!" I grabbed him by the collar.

I forced myself to spill the entire dream. By the time I finished, my teeth were chattering.

"Liam, these things are actually happening. The point is, every single time! Every person who took the money died!"

Liam fell silent for a good ten seconds before letting out an exasperated chuckle. "Have you been watching too many slasher flicks?"

I stared at him dead in the eye.

The smirk slowly faded from his face, and he swallowed hard. "...How much was that Powerball jackpot, anyway?"

I shoved him away.

"Is the money really the point? People died! And he said he was going to crawl inside my stomach. I am not giving birth to him!"

But Liam just laughed. "It doesn't sound that scary. Besides, it seems like this Fae really can bring in the cash."

"And since that fairy is here to repay you, just sweet-talk him next time. Get him to use a safer method to give us the money. Wouldn't that work?"

My heart dropped. "You want me to trick a Fae? What if he actually gets inside my stomach and forces me to have him?"

Liam waved a dismissive hand. "Wouldn't that be even more perfect? We wouldn't have to carry these damn student loans anymore."

My stomach churned.

"Liam! I am absolutely not giving birth to him. He's a monster hiding behind a mask of kindness."

But a lingering unease clawed at my chest—what if the boy didn't give up and went after Liam instead?

"Don't touch me for a while. I'm terrified he'll use you to get to me."

"If that Fae finds you, don't you dare agree to anything."

Yet, recalling what he had just said, panic kept me moving. I spun around, sprinted into the bedroom, and dragged my duffel bag out from under the bed. I frantically stuffed my water bottle, some clean clothes, and my textbooks into it.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Liam's expression darkened.

"Until this Fae boy thing is figured out, we're living apart." I slung the bag over my shoulder. "As long as we're separated and not having sex, he has no way into my body."

"You're seriously guarding yourself against me over some ridiculous dream?"

I turned and glared at him. "I'm terrified that what ends up in my stomach won't be a baby, but him."

"Just remember what I said if that little boy comes to you, under no circumstances do you agree to anything."

Liam leaned back against the couch, roughly scratching at his head, and said nothing more.

That afternoon, I rented the cheapest studio apartment I could find across from campus.

Too terrified to sleep that night, I aimlessly scrolled through my phone. By chance, I clicked on a serialized story on the university's intranet titled The Fae's Gratitude.

The very first line read: "I dreamed of a little boy who said he was a Fae."

My breath hitched.

The next line read: "He said he was here to repay a debt and would grant me three wishes to strike it rich."

The boy in the story had blond hair, blue eyes, and wore a white t-shirt. He seemed incredibly cute.

The first time, he told the protagonist to enter a grocery store raffle, but the protagonist didn't go. Someone else actually won the fifty thousand dollars, only to be struck and killed by a car that same night.

The second time, he provided a string of horse racing numbers, which the protagonist ignored. Every single number ended up being a perfect match.

The third time, he told the protagonist to pick up a diamond ring. The protagonist was too scared to go. Later, someone else picked it up and was stabbed to death in a random alley.

My hands and feet turned to ice. I stared fixedly at the latest updated paragraph at the bottom of the screen.

"So I can say with absolute certainty that this is not gratitude. What's more, I suspect that whoever takes his money is doomed."