by Maribel Fox
“Good genes?”
“I'm a vampire, Ava. I will never age more than I have. I have not aged in the last four centuries, and the next four will have the same effect.”
“You… centuries?” I ask, disbelief evident in my voice.
Alistair sighs, shoulders sagging. “I've given you a lot to think about. I'll leave you alone to ponder it. But do think about it, won't you? Don't dismiss it all outright.”
I give him a noncommittal nod and shrug, my insides hollow and twisted.
This is too much. I can't put it all together. Not when every time I try, my brain rebels against me. I hate to see him leave, but I'm glad to be alone again. Alone in the woods, the trees my only company. The only company I want at the moment to be honest. The trees don't judge me, they don't sit there waiting for me to explain things. They don't push into my personal space and press at my vulnerabilities. They're just there. Silent, strong, sentinels against the harsh world beyond.
I don't ever hear him approaching, but Seamus emerges from the woods to stop by the table.
“Look, I don't want to—” I start.
“Just try it out again, will you?” he says, setting the sword down on the table in front of me. “Give it a fair shake though. Ye might find ye like it.”
I huff, but before I get a chance to respond, Seamus starts to leave, slipping back into the thick wood.
“What're you supposed to be, then?” I call out to him in a huff. If we're all playing make-believe, I wanna know what I'm dealing with here.
Seamus stops, turns on his heel, and moves back to the table, a sly grin spreading his face.
“Me? Clurichaun's the name they gave my kind. Fae, like you, but different. Treasure hunter and beer-drinker extraordinaire,” he says, seeming altogether proud of himself. Then he leans in, close enough I smell the forest on him, the whiff of beer and pipe tobacco clinging to his clothes. He leans close enough that his lips are nearly brushing the shell of my ear, his breath warm on my skin, sending shivers down my spine.
“And I'd be delighted to swear fealty to a new Queen,” he says, and I'm sure his lips just skim my ear, my whole body dissolving in shudders of anticipation.
This time he does slip away into the woods, disappearing between the trees without a trace, and I'm left hot and bothered by his scent still lingering in my lungs, his warmth still clinging to me. Not to mention the feelings he wakes up in me. Maybe it's magic — I'm not admitting that's possible to anyone else, but maybe — maybe it's some kind of power he has. How should I know?
I shiver again, staring after the place he disappeared, sure I can still feel him breathing on my neck. Is there no escape from these wild urges?
I glare at the sword he left on the table, the source of all this trouble. It's masterfully made — worth a fortune to the right collector, I'm sure — and yet I want nothing to do with it. Just looking at it fills me with rage I can't contain. How dare these guys all just march into my life and think they can dictate what I do with it!
Why should I care what happens to a bunch of Faeries that I didn't even know existed until today? Why should it be my responsibility to save them?
It shouldn't. The whole thing's crazy.
I pick the sword up, and immediately it fires, flames dancing all around the blade, bright and fierce. It's no less startling the second time, but this time I don't just drop the sword. I'm so sick of this thing and all the trouble it's caused. I chuck it as hard as I can into the woods, the blade making a satisfying slicing sound as it moves through the air.
I lose sight of it, and keep an ear out for it to land, feeling a little guilty. That was Seamus's sword, not mine. But I didn't ask him to leave it with me and he already knows how I feel about it.
I feel bad, but I'm not going back to look for it. If he cares that much about the stupid thing, he can find it himself.
Me on the other hand, I'm going back to my normal damn life. The one without magical heritage and flaming swords. The nice, quiet life where the most stressful thing that happens to me all day is something needing repaired around the B&B.
That's the life I want back, and I'm gonna have it. Even if I have to evict every guest I've currently got.
12
Seamus
Dusk’s claiming its rightful place over the land as Ava storms off toward the house. I frown looking after her from my perch in one of the trees above. Not how I’d hoped she’d react to everything.
Can’t say I much blame her though. A lot to take in, it is. She’s got a lot on her plate.
That’s why I wanted to stick around and see how she handled things. Me watching her wasn’t helping matters — at least not when she was aware of my eyes on her perfect body. A flash of heat zips through me at the memory of her shivering under my words. Her magic reaching out to me, pulling me in.
It explains most everything. Ava being a Queen is more than I could have hoped for. It certainly offers explanation for why I’m so inexplicably drawn to her. A Faerie Queen without a court… Well, it’s been ages since a new Queen appeared. I’m not even sure what the protocol is for developing a new court.
Gotta convince Ava of what she is first, though. No point in handing her a court if she’s going to refuse her role.
My eyes stick to the place where that sword disappeared through the thicket of trees. It flamed up the moment she touched it. Never responded to me like that. It answered to me, a bit at least. I thought I understood the sword’s trick, but clearly, I was hardly scratching the surface of what it could do. Bursting into flame like that — big magic, even if Ava doesn’t realize it right now.
Luckily it didn’t stay on fire when she hurled it. There’s no smell of smoke in the air or sound of wood cracking under heat. Her tantrum has minimal impact, and yet I’m disappointed.
Not surprised, mind you. Not surprised by a mile. Ava’s been through a lot, her life has been tossed into upheaval more than once, and now we’re doing it to her again. It’s a lot to take in, after all. I’d be more surprised if she were able to take it all in stride without question. Now that would be alarming.
As it is, her rejecting her heritage and responsibilities seems about par for the course.
Still, I can’t leave the sword sitting in the woods. I know she might not care about it right now, might not understand the significance of what’s happening here, but I do. I’m not daft. I know when a vampyr’s surprised by something to take note of it.
I’d never considered the sword all that special before — I’ve got a dozen others in my treasure trove, not to mention all manner of exotic weaponry. The amount of treasures and artifacts I’ve collected over the years — some of them literally stumbled upon — is staggering even to me. And I’ve got the power of an inventory in my head.
This sword was nothing special when I found it. Pretty, sure. Hidden, but poorly. It was almost like the sword was forgotten, rather than purposely put away. Who would miss such a thing?
I carried it around for years before I discovered the fun heat trick one night. Still, magic swords were a dime a dozen at one time. It probably had a use to someone long ago, but it seemed mostly worthless to me. A fun thing to keep, but not anything I thought about much.
And then I wound up here, in Lupine Bay. This is where I found the sword all those years ago, but why it’s brought me back is still kind of a blur. I’ve gotten pretty good at following my intuition without question. It brought me here, and even though everyone from Hell all the way to Heaven wants to know why in the world my intuition’s led me here, I don’t have an answer for any of ‘em.
Or I didn’t.
Ava and everything I’ve learned about her puts it more in perspective, but there’s still the matter of that sword.
It’s more important than I thought, I’m sure of it. It didn’t seem special when it was in my possession, but that was before Ava ignited it with her mere touch.
Much more special now, even if I still don’t know exactly what’
s so special about it.
My feet hardly make a sound as I leap down from the tree onto the leaf-strewn forest floor. I strain my ears for anyone else around, though it seems I’m alone out here. Just as well. Don’t want someone else recovering my treasure before I have the chance. Especially not with agents of both sides breathing down my neck.
I head off in the direction Ava threw the sword, but it’s not where I anticipated it would be. I look all around, kicking up leaves before I tap into the treasure hunter part of my brain. That leads me further into the woods, further than it seems possible for Ava to have thrown the thing.
But sure enough, I find it. I look back over my shoulder and whistle, barely able to spot the picnic table from here. Never would have expected a little thing like Ava to be able to give it such a good heave. And with a hell of a landing, too — it’s firmly lodged into a big stump, sticking straight up.
“Impressive,” I mutter to myself, looking back again. I’m not sure I could have made that toss, and hurling’s my best event.
Impressive though it may be, the sword can’t stay here, practically begging to wind up in the wrong hands.
I sigh and reach for it, giving it a tug.
It doesn’t budge. She really got it in there good. Bracing my foot on the edge of the stump, I try again, more force behind it this time.
Not even a wiggle.
“Wanna make this difficult, eh?” I growl, stepping up on the stump, one foot planted on either side of the sword. I grab the hilt, tighten my grip, and pull with all my might.
…Only to fall back exhausted after a solid minute’s effort.
Damn thing’s the Sword in the Stump at this point. Not sure how she managed to get it lodged in there so good considering the angle and the distance, but there’s something at play here. I’m not a bloody noodle-armed weakling.
What this needs is more manpower. Something this B&B isn’t lacking in, even if my fellow guests don’t seem to have the same penchant for repairs and renovations I do. Trying to explain to Raj how to turn the water main off was an exercise in frustration. How a lad of seven manages to be more competent than a devil of half a dozen centuries will never cease to be a mystery to me. Mysterious as it is, I learn my lessons quick and Ian’s been my main assistant with repairs.
Somehow, I don’t think Ian’s going to be the one to help me out with this one. I head up to the bar, not sure who I’ll find, but certain there will be someone to find.
Sure enough, the whole gang’s here. Kush and Raj are at the bar, both chatting up Rue while being very chummy, and Micah’s off in a corner looking put-out, here perhaps for no other reason than the frosty mug of root beer he’s working on.
“Seamus! Dude! Where you been?” Kush calls, waving me over quickly. “You disappeared into the woods. Did you talk to Ava? What’s the scoop?”
“The… what?” I ask with a frown.
“What’ll it be?” Rue asks, leaning over the bar toward me.
“’Fraid I’m not in the market for a beverage,” I say. Somehow, that has the effect of conveying the importance of my presence more than anything else. Rue, Raj, and Kush, all look very serious and concerned all of the sudden.
“You feelin’ okay?” Kush asks.
Raj straightens up, all ears waiting for me to expound.
“Bit of a pickle,” I say, looking to each of the three men in turn. Micah’s not really a part of this, but he is. Whether we want him to be or not, he is. Heaven’s sent him here, and though I’d like to keep the murderous bastards out of my business, he’s Kushiel’s partner. Their rocky past aside, I don’t think excluding Micah will be an option as long as Kush is present. Might as well not try.
“Ava wasn’t chuffed with the sword’s reaction to her; chucked it in the woods—”
“You lost it?” Raj asks quickly, jumping to his feet, the barstool nearly toppling behind him.
“Did I say that?” I snap. “It’s not lost—”
“Then what?” asks Micah. Didn’t notice him coming over. He blends into the shadows too well, moves too quietly. The expression he’s got isn’t hiding much. He hasn’t said it in so many words, but the angel’s got an eye on that sword. Thinks it’s important. Makes me wonder what he knows about it. About its powers. For him to be interacting with us — not a fan of the species mixing, that one — speaks volumes.
Maybe he’s hoping it’s his chance to nab it for himself. Sneaky bleeding Celestials. Always so high and mighty, but the first ones to swoop in when you’re down. Bunch of hypocrites.
“It’s not lost,” I say again. “It’s stuck.”
“Stuck?” Kush asks, head tilted to the side.
“Aye.”
Raj laughs and shakes his head. “You’re too weak to retrieve it and came to ask for someone stronger, is that it, Fae?”
“Careful devil, lest we truly discover who’s stronger,” I warn, no real malice in my tone. This is how we talk to each other. Each of us thinks our kind is best, is the strongest, most capable, most trustworthy of all the supernaturals.
“I’ll give it a shot,” says Kush, hopping down from his barstool.
Neither of us waits for the others to chime in or join. I head outside, and Kush is close behind. By the time we’re in the woods, I can hear four distinct sets of footsteps, so I know we’re all here.
Kush heads right up to the sword, puts all his strength into it, and fails to dislodge the damn thing.
“Pathetic,” Raj says, rubbing his hands together. “Step back and watch.”
“What are we meant to see?” asks Micah after Raj’s third failed attempt.
Kush snickers under his breath, I don’t do such a good job at hiding my amusement, and Raj glares at us all.
“Alright, Angel, why don’t you try it?”
Micah looks at the sword, mildly torn. I’m not sure what he thinks he knows about this sword, but it makes him hesitant to pull it from the stump. Still, with the three of us sitting there as failures, he can’t deny the pull of the challenge for long. Micah approaches it from a different angle, tries his grip in another place.
Still, there’s not even a hint of movement from the sword. No one’s managed to even loosen it, let alone wiggle it.
“Don’t think that thing wants to go anywhere, bro,” Kush says with a frown that looks out of place on his face.
“If we’re unable to remove it, I doubt another could,” Raj adds with a nod. He’s probably got a point. The combined might of a Fae, two angels, and a devil is not enough to dislodge it. Divine intervention itself might not be enough to remove it at this point.
“It appears to be well-hidden,” Micah says, strolling the perimeter of the surrounding area. It’s still well within the bounds of Ava’s property, and this stump has no special appearance or placement. It’s surrounded by other trees and stumps, all equally unassuming and not-special.
The likelihood of someone other than us finding this thing is minimal. I don’t like it though. This isn’t what I expected to happen when I handed the thing to Ava. Not sure what I bloody well expected knowing what a state she was in.
It’s my own fool fault for not thinking it through proper.
“S’pose there’s naught for it then,” I say, nodding at the three of them. “My thanks for your efforts.”
“Anytime,” Kush says with a grin, clapping me on the shoulder. “Coming back to the bar with us?” he asks.
“Perhaps later,” I say, still regarding the sword carefully. None of them argue with me or try to convince me to join them as they disappear back toward the B&B. I head back as well, but in another direction. There’s something about all of this that still isn’t sitting right with me.
I’ve never made my way to Ava’s room, but I know the whereabouts of it from my time hunting for new repairs. Approaching it is another matter entirely, though.
It’s not that I’m nervous about what Ava will say, or how she’ll react. It’s my reactions around her that have me on
edge. Queen’s draw or no, the woman’s got me wrapped around her finger and I’m not sure she’s got any clue.
Though this might show a bit more of my hand than I was planning to.
It’s only right.
Holding my breath as I knock on her door, I try to figure out exactly what I’m doing here. There’s not a plan of any sort — not really my style — but I know that Ava’s current upset is due to me, and I don’t like that.
There are footsteps shuffling through carpet on the other side of the door, and soon it swings open, Ava looking beautiful as ever in tiny shorts and a plain t-shirt. Beyond her, I see the rumpled covers of her bed and worry that I’ve awoken her even though it’s quite early in the evening.
She’s surprised to see me, eyes wide, lips parting in a quiet gasp.
“How are you?” I ask, not knowing what the words will be until they’re past my lips. Not my best work, but it could’ve been worse.
Ava hugs herself, her hip keeping the door from closing. “What are you doing here, Seamus?” she asks, sounding weary. My name in that tone sounds too near a curse for my liking.
“I’ve done wrong by you,” I say. “Putting all of this on you without warning. I hadn’t a clue asking you to touch me sword would trigger all this…”
She looks down, teeth working on her bottom lip, golden hair falling from the pony’s tail she has it in, caressing her face where I can’t. I’m jealous of her damned hair.
“I’m sorry, Ava,” I say softly, causing her eyes to flick up at me. “This is far more than you’ve bargained for, but I wanted you to know that I’ll be here. For support or whatever else you find yourself lacking.” My voice warms of its own accord there, and when Ava looks up at me with her cheeks flushed, my response is automatic. I reach forward, hand cradling her jaw.
“This is…” Ava licks her lips, eyes searching mine. I see her internal struggle, the fight inside her to ignore this pull between us, to fight, to resist that which we have no hope of resisting.