Careless Wishes

by Amy Sumida

  “We came to help,” Daxon said calmly. “We're not trying to hinder you; we just want you to be more cautious.”

  “I'm always cautious.”

  “Seren, stop this nonsense right now!” Tiernan snapped.

  “Tiernan, kiss my ass right now!” I snapped back and headed into the house.

  Killian joined me, snickering under his breath. Yeah, that exchange had been a little childish but that's yet another outcome of parenthood.

  “They're worried,” Killian said after he got his chuckles out. “This thief has the power to do nearly anything, Seren.”

  “I know. But that doesn't make it okay for them to behave like assholes.”

  “Fair enough,” Kill conceded. “But let he who has never been an asshole cast the first stone.”

  I snorted. “That's not how that goes.”

  “Just saying, you're not exempt from assholiness.”

  “Not a word, but point taken.”

  We stepped into a room full of flowers. The scent hit me first—an utterly sublime perfume of roses, jasmine, violets, and lilies of the valley. Then I got a good look around me. The living room was done in gangster chic with a lot of leather and a lack of soft things. Which made the flowers stand out. They mainly bloomed on the glass coffee table but some were scattered on the sofa too. Opposite the living room stood a low wall—one of those kitchen bar counters—and then a kitchen beyond it, bare of any floral décor beyond a single rose that laid on the counter. I took a deep breath and determined that the strong aroma was wafting in from the hallway.

  “Your Highness,” Ainsley, one of my knights, strode down that same hallway and stepped up to Killian, “they must have had a stash of weapons and drugs in the back, it's all been transformed, but there's something else you need to see.”

  We followed Ainsley down the corridor, past a few bedrooms, then out into the backyard. Two more structures stood in the grassy clearing, bigger than sheds but too small to be called houses. Thick jungle formed a wall around them. One was the source of the glorious perfume. It's door hung open to allow a glimpse of amazing sculptures made out of flowers, all set upon a long table as if waiting to be picked up and taken to a party. The other building was open as well but it didn't release a nice scent. Instead, a line of humans stumbled out of it, helped by our people, all of them looking beaten, starved, and generally pitiful.

  “Kidnappers,” I whispered in horror.

  The captives stared around themselves in wonder as they clung to the men and women who had freed them. They were led into the house, several staring up at the night sky as if they'd thought to never see it again. Others wept or carried on in a stream of Portuguese that bore the unmistakable tone of gratitude.

  Then Gradh carried out a little boy.

  If you're a parent, you know that once you have a child, you see the world differently. It becomes more beautiful than you ever thought possible. You see things through your child's eyes and remember how wondrous the world can be. But at the same time, life takes on a sinister edge. Every shadow holds the possibility of harm and every tragedy, especially those inflicted upon children, is something that could happen to your child. So, when Gradh passed by me, cradling that bruised little boy who could barely keep his eyes open, I saw Caelum and Falcas in his face. I saw Rowan and Shahzadi in his tiny hands and feet. And then they all blurred into nothing because my eyes had filled with tears.

  “Shh, mo shíorghrá, the boy will live.” Raza was suddenly holding me, his body blocking the parade of prisoners. “They will all live.”

  “Raza,” I whispered in entreaty, but I had no idea what I was asking for.

  “I know. If that had been Shahzy—” his voice broke and he bent over me. “I want to tear them apart. Can I tear them apart, my love?”

  I chuckled through my tears. “No, baby. I think the Councils would frown on that.”

  “Several are already dead. They won't know the difference,” Raza growled.

  “You know those men won't see justice here,” Killian said as he stroked my hair. “The Courts are nearly as corrupt as the Police. At best, they're ineffectual. At worst, they're another tool of the gangs. Of course, the gangs are gone. Maybe they will see justice. Or maybe the mobs will get them.”

  “We could find some starving piranhas,” Raza suggested. “This is Brazil, after all.”

  I stared up at him a second and then let out a burst of surprised laughter.

  “Was that a joke?” Killian asked in an impressed tone. “Well done, Brother. I didn't think you had it in you.”

  “Anything to make you smile,” Raza whispered to me, holding my gaze and stroking my cheek. “Tell me what you want me to do, mo shíorghrá, and it shall be done.”

  I took Raza's hand and moved it from my cheek to my lips, kissed it tenderly, then pressed it back against my face. Leaning into his palm, I said, “I love you so damn much. And I love how protective you are. Thank you, baby, but no piranhas. I won't add to the bloodshed of this night,” I said firmly. “Let's do what we can for the people we freed and leave the other men here to their fates.”

  Raza sighed deeply, then kissed my forehead. “As you wish, my Queen.” Then he transferred his stare to one of his knights and nodded.

  The man strode off to convey our orders. Before he made it to the backdoor, the sound of a Bargest howl cut through the night. Ainsley came running out of the house and up to us, his eyes wide. He didn't have to say anything, his expression said it all, but he spoke anyway.

  “Your Highness, I'm afraid that Conri and Rodaidh are executing the rest of the criminals,” Ainsley reported. “We tried to stop them but they're beyond reasoning. They saw the child and... reacted poorly.”

  If I'm completely honest, a part of me applauded.

  “Can I tear them apart now?” Raza asked a little petulantly.

  Before I could say anything, Killian's cellphone rang.

  Kill pulled his phone out of his leather hoodie and answered, “Yeah?” His expression darkened as he listened. “I'll tell the others. Yeah, I know. We haven't run into him again.” He hung up and gave us a heavy look. “Food crops are on fire in Bolivia, Peru, and Columbia. Paraguay is overrun with rioting mobs and Brazil is likely to follow suit.”

  “That man will die screaming,” Daxon growled.

  Movement in the bushes suddenly caught our attention. I glanced over and caught a flash of pale skin. The thief stared at us through the cover of jungle foliage. His eyes widened as we reacted automatically, all of us casting our magic at him. Well, all but Raza, who breathed fire. The fire obliterated our view for a few seconds and when Raza paused to take another breath, a patch of blackened land was revealed, utterly devoid of anything. Including the pearl thief.

  Raza roared.

  Chapter Forty

  We were offered a place to stay by Rory Tuilich, the Lord of the Wild Hunt in charge of the Wild Hunt's mission in Brazil. He was blond like our thief except his hair was more yellow than gold and his walnut skin made the color seem even brighter. We accepted his offer mainly because we didn't want to wait on the plane again, especially with riots ravaging the city. The monitor's house had tall walls that were warded; it would hold without us having to defend it. Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same for the Human Council House.

  In case you're wondering what a monitor is and why we were staying in his house, allow me to explain. There is only one Fairy Council House on Earth and that's the High Fairy Council House in Ireland. The other council houses—where hunters are trained and housed—are all in Fairy. However, every major city has a Hunter monitor who lives in a Wild Hunt-owned house, sort of like the Rath Lords. The main job of these monitors is to keep an eye on the area but they also store vehicles for hunters to use while on hunts and they provide shelter for those hunters if needed. As the man in charge, Rory had temporarily taken over the monitor's house and had the right to offer us its hospitality.

  We didn't get to the house until well aft
er midnight, but we were starving so we made time for a meal before bed. The extinguishers and vexes retired to their Council House and homes so it was only the hunters, the Royal Guards, and us. Unfortunately, the monitor's dining table wasn't big enough to seat all of us at once so our knights and most of the hunters took their meals outside to eat at picnic tables in the backyard. The food was delicious and Brazilian—a stew called Moqueca de Camarao made with prawns and veggies with a side of rice—and I made sure to offer my compliments to the chef.

  “My Brownie is from the area,” Cipriano, the Hunter monitor said. “He likes to cook local cuisine, especially for visitors.”

  He meant Brownie as in the Fey race, not the dessert. They're a type of Seelie Fairy who—for some reason beyond me—love housework. Cooking, cleaning, washing, whatever domestic task needed to be done in a home, or a palace, they wanted to do it. For this reason, most Fey servants were Brownies, at least in Seelie, Twilight, and on Earth.

  “Have you been stationed here long?” I asked Cipriano.

  My husbands were too tired for small talk. They were focused on their food so I took it upon myself to be civil for all of us.

  “Only about fifty years.” He shrugged.

  Killian chuckled at my expression.

  Cipriano looked from Kill to me and his eyes widened. “My apologies, Your Majesty, I didn't consider your age or upbringing.”

  “It's fine.” I waved away his apology. “I'm not offended.”

  A boom interrupted us, and I flinched toward the sound.

  “It's outside our gates,” Lord Rory assured me.

  It wasn't really reassuring.

  “It's turning into a war zone out there,” I murmured. “How does he not see what he's doing?”

  “He leaves too quickly.” Daxon pushed away his empty bowl and straightened—able to interact now that he was full. “And it's not as if he's going to grab a newspaper to check on the places he's been.”

  “I would,” I shot back. “I'd want to see how my deeds had helped people.”

  “Unless that's not what he's trying to do,” Cipriano murmured.

  “What did you say?” Rory asked sharply.

  “We're assuming that his intentions are good because that's what they seem to be,” Cipriano said. “But what if they're not? What if the thief knows that his wishes are creating an imbalance? What if that's the result he's after? Most fairies know better than to use a relic flippantly or even at all. We know that magic has a price; we saw the evidence of that when King Uisdean used Dagda's club. Those memories are fresh and even those of us who didn't witness the fall of the Unseelie King have heard tales of it. None of us are surprised by what's happening now. It's the extinguishers and witches who are shocked by the repercussions. But the Fey aren't.”

  “You're saying that he might be deliberately trying to destroy the world?” Raza asked in a low, deadly voice.

  “Kill them with kindness,” Killian noted. “Literally.”

  “The Cintamani can't be used to kill,” I said in epiphany. “So, he uses it to do good things that he knows will lead to bad. That's devious.”

  “I'd say we were leaping to unlikely conclusions if I didn't know my kind so well,” Daxon muttered.

  “We Fairies love our intrigue,” Rory agreed. “It would be just like a Sidhe to use good wishes to harm humans. It's practically poetic—giving humans what they want while knowing it will destroy them.”

  “He's probably proud of himself,” Cipriano added. “Honestly, if this theory is true, I'll be impressed. Grudgingly, but still impressed.”

  “It would explain a lot,” Raza said, his eyes flashing my way.

  “It's definitely possible, but I don't know,” I whispered. Then, in a stronger voice, I added, “And it doesn't matter. Not really. Either way, we need to stop him before the whole world descends into chaos.”

  “I think it does matter,” Tiernan protested. “Sitting here, waiting for the next terrible thing to happen, is making me feel helpless. And I don't do helpless. We need to start anticipating his moves instead of waiting for him to make one, and the easiest way to do that is to figure out what motivates him.”

  “Yes, but we don't need to know his motivations to anticipate what he'll do next,” I pointed out. “He's going down a list of things wrong with the world and trying to correct them. He's checked off poverty, famine, and now, crime.”

  “So, what's next?” Daxon looked around the table.

  We went silent to consider it. What was next?

  “WWJD?” Killian asked, then smirked at me.

  “What nonsense are you spouting now?” Raza asked in irritated bafflement.

  Daxon, Cipriano, and I laughed, Tiernan grimaced, but Rory was just as confused as the King of Unseelie.

  “What would Jesus do? As in Jesus Christ,” I interpreted for them. Then I blinked. “That's actually a good question. What would he do?”

  “What did he do?” Raza countered with a deeper scowl.

  I gaped at him. “You do know who he was, right?”

  “The man on the cross who humans pray to,” he said stiffly.

  I smothered my laugh. “I suppose that's one way of describing him.”

  “The stories about Jesus say that he performed miracles,” Killian explained for the fairies who weren't familiar with Christianity. “He walked on water, fed the hungry, turned water to wine—”

  “Oh, now there's a handy magic,” Raza interrupted.

  I rolled my eyes. “I don't think our pearl thief is going to go on a wine-making spree.”

  “We can only hope.” Daxon shared a grin with Raza.

  “Can we focus, please?” Tiernan gave the men a reproachful look.

  “Jesus was also big on healing lepers and the lame,” Killian added. “That's lame as in crippled, not your personality, Tiernan. There's no cure for that kind of lameness.”

  Tiernan lifted a platinum brow. “We'll see how lame I am when I sneak into your room tonight and castrate you.”

  Everyone winced except for Killian.

  “That escalated fast,” Daxon muttered.

  “No biggie.” Killian shrugged. “I've got a spare.”

  The hunters widened their eyes at him.

  “You just had to give him an opportunity to talk about his two dicks, didn't you?” Daxon asked Tiernan dryly.

  “I assure you, that was not my intention.” Tiernan grimaced.

  “That's what you get for going straight for the jugular,” Killian announced. “Or the family jewels, rather. You need to learn how to take a joke, King Lame.”

  Tiernan lifted his chin and a stiff breeze suddenly hit Killian, sending him tumbling backward. Instead of being upset, Killian climbed to his feet laughing. He righted his chair and resumed his seat, then nodded approvingly at Tiernan.

  “Now, that's how you take a joke,” Kill declared.

  “I'm going to bed now.” I stood up, having had enough of the shenanigans, and my husbands quickly got to their feet too. “Raza, would you care to join me?”

  “I'd be delighted.” Raza grinned and came forward to offer me his arm.

  “Hey, what the hell?” Killian called after us.

  “I don't reward bad behavior,” I called back.

  “You ever feel as if she uses the same techniques on us that she does on our children?” Killian asked the other men.

  Daxon snorted. “I think it's the other way around.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  “He heals the lame!” I exclaimed as I sat up in bed.

  “What's happened?” Raza murmured sleepily as his eyes fluttered open.

  I had been too tired to have sex the night before so we'd only cuddled a bit as we fell asleep. Raza thought my reluctance had something to do with our earlier argument, but I assured him that I'd gotten over it. I apologized for jumping into a dangerous situation and he, in turn, apologized for being a brute about it. So, we went to sleep without any anger between us—as we should. While I
slept, my brain had been working and when I woke up, something solidified.

  “Killian said that Christ healed the sick,” I reminded him. “That's it; that's what the pearl thief will do next.”

  “Shall we just give him the moniker of Pearl Thief since we have no idea who this man is?” Raza yawned as he shifted his legs over the edge of the bed, then stretched his broad shoulders; they had to be broad and strong so they could support his wings.

  When he stood, he offered me a phenomenal view. Raza never slept in clothing; he didn't like the restriction since he tended to move about a lot and when he woke up, he liked to release his wings. He bent down to pull on his pants and my mouth fell open. Muscles clenched and bulged as sunshine streamed across Raza's velvety black skin. Dear Danu, that ass was just begging to get bit. Why is a man's ass so enjoyable to look at? It's just something they sit on. But when an ass has that right balance of firm and soft, when it curves out enough to fill a woman's hand, and when it's covered by perfect, silky skin, it becomes worthy of poetry. Of music. Raza's ass should have its own theme song.