by Maribel Fox
She bursts around the corner like a tornado and stops dead in her tracks when she spots me.
“You're here too?” she cries, tossing her hands up in the air. “Is there nowhere I can go to escape you crazy men?”
I frown, leaning forward in my seat. “You seem distraught. Did something happen?” I ask, voice careful and measured. No telling what those other fools have done to upset her, but I'm going to do my best not to make it worse. She's on the verge of hysteria and that's never productive.
“Did something happen?” she asks, voice cracking in an unhinged laugh. “Did something happen?! Yes, something fucking happened! Your boys goaded me into touching that stupid trick sword and the whole thing burst into flames! I don't know what kind of trick you're playing on me, but I'd like it to end now. “
Alistair appears — who knows from where, Vampires have a tendency to pop in and out on a whim — and looks very concerned.
“Ava, you touched a sword and it burst into flame?” he asks.
Ava looks from me to Alistair, then back to me like she's hoping I'm going to be able to give her the words to say. Can't do that though. She doesn't take suggestion, no matter how much she probably wishes she did right about now.
“Uh… Yes?” she says carefully. “I didn't mean to involve you Alistair, I just needed to get away from… All that.”
She's hugging herself, looking puzzled. I'm not even sure she knows what she's trying to get away from. She's still lying to herself about what we are and what's found its way to her doorstep.
“Seamus can make it heat things up. Maybe it just likes you better?” I offer with a shrug. I get that she's freaking out about magic and all that, but this isn't really a big deal. Magic artifacts are never without certain quirks and peculiarities. This one happens to burst into flames. She's lucky it didn't launch a plague or something similar.
The door whips open again, letting in a fresh gust of crisp air.
“Ava… We need to talk about this,” Seamus says, voice soft and gentle like he's calming a trapped animal. Kushiel comes in behind him, the two of them forming a blockade on the other side of the shop.
“No, we don't,” she says firmly, pushing through the shop, past me, past Alistair, through the back door, air rushing in behind her.
For a moment, all four of us are silent, looking at each other, ears strained for any sign of Ava coming back. She's not coming back though. Not now at least. She was spooked enough before they followed her. Now she's in a full panic.
I glare at the pair, the book on my lap all but forgotten by now.
“What was all that about?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m wondering that too,” Kush says, giving the Irishman a sideways glance.
Seamus grumbles something and rubs the back of his neck before dropping his hand with a heavy exhale.
“She's Fae, clear as day, and doing her damn well best to ignore it,” he says, sounding like he takes it as a personal offense that she'd be confused about her heritage.
“What? You sure about that dude?” Kush asks, making a skeptical face.
I’m inclined to agree with him. Ava is… something, that much is clear, but Fae? Seamus is thinking wishful thoughts.
“I ken one o’ me own kind when I see ‘em,” Seamus snarls defensively.
“He’s right,” Alistair says, making us all turn. “She’s Fae, and she’ll have to accept it sooner or later.” The Vampire sounds beaten down and defeated as he shakes his head. “It's her birthright, and she's only going to get more dangerous the longer she goes on unchecked.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, dragging nonexistent sleep from the corners of his eyes.
“Let me talk to her. Perhaps she'll listen to a familiar face.”
Seamus looks at me and I shrug.
“Why not?” Kush asks. “Gotta be better than us weirdos.”
Incredible how frequently I’m agreeing with him. Falling has quite the pleasant effect on an Angel’s personality. I have no objections to the Vampire at this point, and Ava seems to trust him. Who better to talk her out of her panic?
Seamus nods and pulls the sword out from thin air — really from his treasure trove, hidden in a pocket dimension or some other nonsensical Fae magic. At least Hell's magic has rules. Order. The Fae have their courts, but no real discipline outside of that. Where children with my upbringing are taught the dangers of their strength, respect for our abilities to bend the will of other creatures, and restraint to not abuse our gifts, Fae receive no such training.
Their powers are so varied — and often unique — that they're encouraged to explore and push themselves as far as they can. Rules and sense be damned.
He offers the sword to Alistair. “Maybe you can convince her to try it again?”
Alistair holds out his hands in a warning. “No, no thank you,” he says quickly, taking a step back. “Given what I know about that sword and what I believe it to be… I would be very lucky if it didn't incinerate me where I stand.”
Seamus makes a face and looks at the sword, turning it over casually, curiously. Then he shrugs, and it disappears again.
“Wish me luck,” Alistair says, heading out the back door without another look spared for any of us.
“Not ‘xactly how I hoped she'd take the news,” Seamus says frowning, only now looking around the shop like he's noticed the building isn't empty for the first time.
“Nice treasure trove,” he says absently, strolling the nooks and crannies. Guess Alistair's not too worried about us turning out to be thieves. Possibly shortsighted on his part, though he's not wrong. I have no need to steal, and while Seamus isn't opposed to ‘reappropriating’ things from one person's possession into his own, he doesn't have a habit of making new enemies unnecessarily. Kushiel… Well, he’s more likely to add to the collection than take away.
Alistair seems like he might be a good ally to have. He knows Ava, he knows the area, and judging by this place, he might know a thing or two about paranormal artifacts.
Definitely not one to underestimate. I hope he's able to get through to Ava.
The news that she's Fae is surprising. It shouldn't be too surprising now that I really consider it. She's immune to my suggestion, to my trying to entice her to sin. And she's been drawing me since the moment I laid eyes on her. Pulling me to her.
That has to be her magic. If what Alistair said is true, Ava's only just starting to come into her powers. A Fae that hasn't come into her own by her age is extremely dangerous. It goes back to that whole thing of how young Fae learn to control their gifts. Just how Hounds learn their own strength by play-fighting as puppies before they're full-grown bloodthirsty beasts, young Fae need to learn their own strengths before they fully grow into them. Trying to learn to control her powers for the first time at full strength will be… challenging.
If Alistair knew, why didn't he tell her sooner? Why keep her history from her? Especially when it's so dangerous.
Her being Fae won't be interesting only to me. Seamus hanging around a human’s B&B was already enough to concern the powers that be in Hell. But him settling for the first time near a Fae? Very suspicious.
Did he always know what she was? When he told me he didn't know why he's here, did he already know she's a Fae like him?
Seamus has always been tricky, always up to his own thing, but he's never been duplicitous. I've known him to withhold details, I've known him to creatively word things, but I've never known him to be outright dishonest.
Being Fae makes Ava of a slightly higher status than if she were simply human — at least as far as Hell is concerned — but Fae are still not looked upon kindly by those below. Or above for that matter. We haven't been very involved with the hostilities between the Fae and Heaven, but Heaven has been on a mission for centuries to eradicate every last Fae they can find.
If not for Seamus, would they have found her at all? They're only aware of her because of his presence in this town — and possibly mine by extens
ion, but it all comes down to Seamus. Would Ava have been able to continue to live her life unaware if he'd never appeared?
Or would she have come into her powers and been hunted by Heaven before any of us could stop them?
Stop them? A voice in my head asks skeptically. Why should you get involved?
It's a good question. A reasonable one. And I don't have a reasonable answer for it. The only answer I have is because she's Ava, which obviously isn't an answer at all.
Despite having a mission here, I've all but forgotten about it the past couple of weeks. I spend most of my time at the B&B — The Shamrock more specifically — getting to know Ava and her friend Rue. Flirting with them both is in my nature, unavoidable, but as much as Rue reciprocates and flirts right back, I know with her it's different. With her, it's nothing but good fun. It's simply a past time that we both enjoy.
With Ava though?
Just the thought of her pointed features, wavy blonde hair, petite curves and impossibly sweet scent awakens something inside of me. The thought of her warmth as I pass behind too close at the bar, the way her breath catches and she tries to hide her immediate reaction to my proximity.
Don't think I haven't noticed it. How could I not? Sin is literally in my blood, and I know what an aroused woman looks like.
I also know what a woman who's holding back looks like. And Ava's holding back a lot. A lot more than just her magic.
I want to be the one to help her let go. I want to take control and give her the safe space to completely give over to me, to let go, to submit.
The room Ava provided for me is well-furnished, but every night when I'm lying in that bed with its wrought-iron frame, I imagine silk wrapped around her thin wrists and ankles, I imagine tying her to the four corners of that bed and giving her everything she never dared to dream of. As nice as the room is, it's torture. A reminder of what I'm missing out on. What's right down the hall in the opposite side of the house.
What I'm bound and determined to get my hands on one way or another.
I don't think there's a chance of me going back to Hell without having Ava. Maybe it's been too long for me, maybe it's her powers calling to me, maybe it's all that or something else I haven't even considered. Whatever it is, I'm obsessed, and I'm not the kind of guy to give up when I find something I want.
“Think he'll have any luck?” Kush asks, standing right beside me. I jump, surprised to see him there since I was lost in my own thoughts.
I shrug truthfully. “We can hope? She's a strong-willed woman, but I think his is an opinion she values.”
“Aye,” Seamus says with a nod, scratching at the ginger scruff along his jawline. “This whole thing's gone arseways, hasn't it?”
I shrug again, finding it difficult to be too worried about all the other stuff going on when I'm focused on my burning need to claim Ava. “You've weathered worse, you lucky bastard.”
Seamus grins and heads toward the back door, Kushiel following — why everyone's going out that way since Ava, I don't know. “Take it easy, Devil.”
“You too,” I say with a sigh, the book in hand no longer appealing.
11
Ava
So far no one's followed me here. I'm back on the B&B property, but near the back where it abuts to the woods. The trees squeeze in close here, and there's a picnic table nestled in the only clearing big enough. It's seen better days, boards rotting, paint faded from the weather, bolts rusty, and the whole thing wobbles when I gingerly take a seat, but then I'm blissfully alone.
I bury my head in my hands and growl. It starts low in my chest, and it builds and builds, rising up in my chest, taking all the air from my lungs as it tears from my throat in a ragged cry.
Why? Why is all of this happening? Why to me? Everything was going great — okay, so not great, but it was going. Now it's all topsy turvy, upside down, inside out, I don't know. There are people here talking about magic and all kinds of other things I don't understand. And every time I try to think about it, try to understand it, it's like I hit a brick wall. In my head. There's something stopping me from even considering the possibility, and when I ignore the block, when I try to force the issue, overwhelming pain flashes through me. Hot and intense, it spikes through my very marrow, making me whimper and crumple forward on the table.
The table sinks under a new weight, creaking and threatening to collapse. My whole body goes stiff, and I hold my breath as I look up.
And let out a sigh of relief.
“Alistair,” I say, not sure if he can hear my relief, or only my exhaustion. “What is going on? These guys are crazy, right? Please tell me they're crazy.”
He gives me a pitying smile and leans forward, covering my hand with his. His hand is cold to the touch but comforting all the same.
“Ava, you know I was very close with your mother. We were the best of friends. And as such, I know more about your background than most. You are in fact Fae. More than that, you're one of the rarest types of all: A Faerie Queen. Queens are the only ones with the ability to open new doors to Underhill from the outside.”
I’m stunned. I don’t even know what to say. I thought I could count on Alistair. I thought he’d be a voice of reason.
“I’m sorry that’s not the answer you wanted, Ava,” he says softly, patting my hand. “It is the truth, however, and your mother would want you to know. I believe she would also want you to grow into your powers. She never discouraged your exploration when you were younger.”
My chest hurts, my lungs too tight to draw breath. It’s too much. I can’t believe it. My head’s spinning and Alistair’s cool touch brings me back, his calm eyes patiently waiting for me to adjust, to accept what he’s saying.
He’s not screwing with me. He’s completely serious, and that means…
What? What does it mean exactly?
“What about my mom? Was she one of these… Faerie Queens?” I ask, still not sure I believe any of it. Hearing it from Alistair makes it feel more real though. He's not some crazy man that appeared out of nowhere. He's Alistair. He's always been in my life, almost a dad to me. He wouldn't make this up. That doesn't mean he couldn't be mistaken though. What if they're all convinced I'm this special thing and I'm not? I don't feel like I am.
“No,” Alistair says, shaking his head simply. “She was Seelie Fae, but nothing more exotic than that. Faerie Queens are born entirely at random. Sometimes hundreds, even thousands of years pass without a new Queen being born.”
I don't know what to say. The way he talks about it makes me think of bees. And I know enough about queen bees to know I don't want that. I don't want to be sequestered away, getting fatter and fatter, pumping out babies non-stop.
“Aside from your rarity, Heaven's war against the Fair Folk has been an unprecedented success. There are far too few Fae remaining, too many doors to Underhill have been lost forever. With your gift, you have a chance. If you embrace your powers and open a new door, it could be the start to rebuilding your people.”
I scoff. Fears confirmed. How can Alistair sit there and talk to me like I should be happy to be breeding stock to save some race of people I've never heard of?
“Humanity is my people,” I say sharply.
Alistair gives me a small, sad smile, and pats my hand gently.
“I understand your resistance. You've been through a lot of trauma. Your mother's death was… It was beyond tragic. I know you've claimed you don't remember the details, but what happens when you try?”
I frown, unsettled that he knows something's off when I try to force my memories. It gives more credence to what he's saying, but I don't like it. Not at all.
“It hurts,” I say. “Like I'm back in the fire again, but the fire's in me.” The fire has always been in me. I've been pushing it away, pushing it aside, trying to ignore it, but I keep getting flashes. Through the brick wall, glimpses manage to break through. Snapshots of me in my room, surrounded by candles, lighting them with my will…
He nods slowly.
“I believe your magic is trying to protect you from the painful memory.”
I swallow, shaking my head. I can't believe him. As credible as he is, as much as I know he doesn't have any reason to lie to me, I can't believe him. Believing him would mean that I have powers. It would mean that I need to embrace them and embracing them is the last thing I want to do.
I can't be sure since my memories are gone, and I'm too scared to ask Alistair for confirmation. Is it possible that my powers started the fire that killed my mom?
The thought makes me sick. Why else would my magic try to protect me from knowing? To keep me from hating it when it's clearly something destructive I don't want to mess with?
“This is crazy,” I say, folding my arms. No way am I believing this. There's weird stuff happening around here, but it's a weird place.
I already have more responsibility than I know what to do with between the B&B, the bar, and Ian. More responsibility is the last thing I need. Especially not “fighting Heaven to save a race of dying magical people.”
Ha. No thank you.
I hate how much sense it all makes though. Does it explain the weird surge of feelings I get around the guys? Is that my magic responding, or something else?
“It may be crazy, but that doesn't detract from its truth,” Alistair says calmly.
I shake my head though, hair whipping around my face. “No. It's not possible. If I was some kind of magical creature, I'd know it. That's not something you just discover in your twenties. Especially since magic isn't real.”
Alistair sighs. “Ava, how long have you known me?”
“My whole life,” I say, petulant because I'm sure he's going to point out how I shouldn't doubt him with that kind of history.
“And how old would you say I am?”
I shrug. “Mid-forties?”
“In all the time you've known me, I haven't aged, Ava. Do you know why?”
I lick my lips, prepared to plug my ears and sing like a child if I have to to avoid this revelation.