“Fae say a lot of things that aren’t necessarily true. But there’s definitely something going on here we’ve never seen before. Here’s what we’re going to do,” Corbin sat up in his chair, thumbing through the grimoire. “Maeve, you and Jane go into the village and get her set up with that baptism. If possible, try and get out of the vicar the names of other babies who aren’t being or haven’t yet been baptized. It’s a small village. The vicar will know everyone. Take Arthur with you for protection.”
“We don’t need protection,” I said, thinking of the fae safely behind Blake’s ward spell.
“We might,” Jane said quietly. I glanced at her, noticing for the first time the color had fled her cheeks. Is it something to do with her profession? Is there someone else out there who wants to hurt her?
“Well, take him for eye candy, then. The rest of you are staying here and pouring through these books. There’s got to be something here that will help us. I’ll give you all the ones in English, and I’ll work on the translations when I get back.“
“I know Old Brythonic and Gaelic, if that’s helpful,” Blake said.
“I’ll do the translations,” Corbin growled.
“Fine by me,” Blake shrugged. If anything, his bored expression seemed to be making Corbin even angrier. It would’ve been hilarious if I wasn’t so worried about Corbin.
“Where are you going?” Flynn asked.
Corbin stood up. “I have to take a little trip, but I’ll probably be back within the day.”
I glanced at Corbin in surprise. He’s leaving Briarwood now? Where on earth is he going?
Arthur laughed. “Sure you are, mate. You wouldn’t even leave that library to go see your favorite band play down in Crooks Crossing. Why leave now, when we actually need you here?”
“Trust me, I don’t want to go. But there’s a chance this might help.”
“I could go instead. You’d be much more use here.”
Corbin shook his head. “This is something only I can do.”
“Care to elaborate there, oh mysterious one?”
“No.” Corbin wiped a strand of dark hair out of his bloodshot eyes.
“I’ll come with you,” Rowan said.
Corbin shook his head. “No.”
“Yes.” Rowan’s voice was surprisingly firm. “Corbin, let me help.”
The air in the room cooled sharply. No one spoke. I glanced between Corbin and Rowan. A voiceless conversation played between them, a battle of wills over a border I didn’t even understand. Wherever Corbin was going, Rowan knew, and he believed Corbin shouldn’t go alone. I’d never seen his body more rigid, his kind eyes more determined and fierce. There was no way Corbin would refuse that face.
But Corbin did. His shoulders squared, and he shook his head. “I need you in the library with the others. It’s probably a long shot, anyway.”
Rowan looked like he was ready to argue. Then the fire flickered out of his eyes and he sagged back against the couch. Flynn made a sound that might have been a sigh.
“Yo, Mussolini,” Blake piped up. “Isn’t Maeve actually supposed to be the high priestess of this coven? Shouldn’t she be the one barking out orders?”
“Weren’t you living in a hollowed-out tree?” Arthur shot back. “How do you even know who Mussolini is?”
“Oh, Daigh liked to regale us with tales of humans whose leadership skills he admired,” Blake said. He lifted the top off the globe in the corner, grinning as he uncovered a bottle of whisky and a collection of crystal glasses hidden within. He uncapped the bottle, splashing a generous amount into the bottom of a glass.
“I was saving that for a special occasion,” Corbin said.
“We’re celebrating.” Blake slammed the glass on the desk in front of Corbin’s face. He went back to the globe and poured another for himself. “We’re celebrating the fact that by some miracle we’re all still alive, and the fact that now Maeve knows how to harness her powers, this coven has a new leader.”
Corbin looked at me and on his face I read something. Corbin always expected me to choose him. To his mind, it made perfect sense for the good of the coven that he be my magister – a priest who helped me to unleash my magic. My power and his knowledge would make the most sensible match.
I don’t think it had occurred to him until this moment that I hadn’t chosen anyone so far, and that I might not choose him. If I didn’t, he wouldn’t be responsible anymore. And that thought terrified him. Corbin needed to take care of everyone. He didn’t know who he was without that responsibility. And there was something more to it, too – that dark pain he was hiding behind his eyes.
No way could I take that away from him. And since the idea of choosing anyone for this magical sex partner role still freaked me out, that meant I needed to get out of this in any way I could.
I shook my head. “I can’t be a leader. I’ve only just started to understand this power. I don’t know anything about magic or rituals or casting circles, and I’ve never once got a broomstick to fly.”
“For a novice, you’re doing okay,” Flynn piped up. “You managed to transport the four of us into the fae realm and bring us back. It was your magic that destroyed the fae and helped us place the ward around the gateway. And those dreams you gave all of us were certainly powerful. The broomstick thing comes with time, although I personally prefer a hoover. Blake, is that whiskey Irish?”
Blake held up the bottle. “It’s says ‘Finest Scotch Whisky’.”
“Well, fiddle-de-dee,” Flynn slumped back on the couch. “Maeve, as your first order of business as leader, you should order that all whiskey in this castle must be of the finest Irish variety.”
“I’m not the leader. I’m not qualified. You don’t just make me the leader because some holy old book says so.”
“Blake is right,” Corbin said slowly, his mouth twisting. I stared at him, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Maeve is our High Priestess. It’s her role to lead the coven, not mine. So ignore everything I said. Maeve, what’s our next step?”
Dammit, Corbin. You’re not supposed to agree with him!
Six pairs of eyes stared at me, waiting to see what I’d say next. My whole body froze. This can’t be happening. I’m a science nerd. What the hell do I know about witchcraft?
10
CORBIN
Maeve’s mouth hung open. Her pink bangs fell over her eyes.
I gripped the edge of my desk to stop the trembling in my hands. This was not how I expected this to go.
Who are you without them?
“Okay,” Maeve said, slowly. “Here’s the thing. I want to make it clear that I still haven’t chosen anyone as a magister. I haven't not chosen anyone, either. I am, in fact, not into this whole choosing thing at all, especially not when there are magical forces acting on my body in ways I can’t understand.”
“That’s why we made the agreement not to try anything with you,” I said. “We didn’t want to confuse you and influence your decision.”
Maeve’s lips twisted. “Well, you’ve all thoroughly bollocksed that up.”
Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, and he glanced at me. What? Did he not know about Maeve and I? About Rowan and Maeve? About what Flynn and I started with Maeve on the couch? And from the way Maeve kept biting her lip when she looked at Blake, I think something might’ve happened there, too. Not that I wanted to think about that.
I guess it was possible Arthur didn’t know. He wasn’t in the room when Flynn and I were fooling around with Maeve, and if Maeve hadn’t told him about the other night, then I guess he wouldn’t have found out. Arthur and I usually hung out and talked all the time, although we hadn’t exactly done that since Maeve moved in and the fae took Connor, and now Blake was here and everything was totally bollocksed up.
I tried to convey to Arthur through subtle movements of my eyebrows that I didn’t see it as a big deal. If we’d all done stuff with Maeve, at least we were even. It was the same as if none of us had done anythin
g.
Besides, after the way she’d dug her nails into my back and writhed against the desk, I was pretty sure when the time came, she’d choose me.
But now I had to remember that she was in charge. Not me. Which was fucking weird, especially after all those things the fae king said to me.
“One of the things a leader does is surround herself with good advisors,” Maeve said. “This is especially important when you don’t know what the hell you’re doing. In this instance I happen to agree with Corbin.”
A wise course of action.
“On all but one point.”
Fuck.
I know exactly what she’s going to say.
“Rowan should go with you on your errand,” she said to me. “It’s important we take precautions.”
We’re four minutes in and already I hate this not being in charge thing. Hate it.
“I really, really don’t need him,” I said, my heart pounding. The last thing in the world I needed was Rowan to show himself where I was headed. Especially after that revelation he’d shared with me before the ritual, that he wished he’d been with Maeve and I. And that look in his eyes… a violent hunger, a deep, primal yearning. I’d never seen that in him before, but now every time I looked at him, there it was.
Like right now. Instead of looking at his feet like usual, Rowan’s eyes were locked on mine, burning with an intensity that made me squirm. What was up with him? It must be Maeve’s presence. As far as I knew, Rowan hadn’t slept with anyone since he got sober. To go from a dry spell to Maeve would be enough to make any man act a little weird. If Rowan’s shag had been anything like mine, his brain had turned to mush.
After all, I’d just given up leadership of the coven without an argument. All because of Maeve and her fucking magical pussy.
But magical pussy or not, Rowan coming with me wasn’t an option. If only Maeve saw it that way.
“No arguments, Corbin. It’s a direct order from your… high priestess.” Maeve gave a cute little laugh. “That’s such a weird thing to come out of my mouth.”
“What if Arthur came instead?” Even Arthur would be a better choice than Rowan. “He’s more likely to be handy in a fight—”
“Arthur is accompanying Jane and I to the village, per your instructions,” Maeve folded her arms. “Or are you reneging on your promise to step aside and let me take over my rightful duties?”
“Fine,” I said, through gritted teeth.
“Perhaps if you explained what it was you were doing, I could make a fairer assessment of the situation.”
No way in hell was I doing that, especially not with that fae bastard around. “I said it’s fine.”
Maeve fixed me with a withering stare. “You’re right. It is fine. Any other questions, or can we get to work?”
Blake yawned. “My only concern is, how do we get to the curry if we have to stay here all day?”
Flynn clapped his hand on Blake’s shoulder. “Friend Blake, allow me to introduce you to one of the wonders of the human realm; food delivery.”
The meeting fell apart as Flynn and Arthur started discussing their favorite curries and Maeve went upstairs to grab her coat. I heaved my body up from my chair.
I wasn’t even out the door before Blake had slid into my chair, leaning it back so it scraped against the bookshelf and putting his dirty fabric boots on top of the desk. I glared at him and whirled around. I can’t bear to watch this.
Rowan appeared beside me. I glared at Rowan. “Are you happy? You got your way.”
“I didn’t do anything. Blake was the one who—”
“You gave him the idea.” I was being a dick, but I couldn’t stop.
Rowan looked away. I could tell from the sag of his shoulders that he was crushed. Well, fuck him. He wanted to come with me, he’d have to get used to being yelled at. “We should go,” he whispered. “It’s a long bus ride.”
Arthur maneuvered his car out of the shed and we all piled inside. Rowan had to hide in the trunk so we could fit Connor’s car seat into the back. I sat in the front seat while Maeve squeezed in the backseat beside Jane and Connor. Arthur had music blaring so loud no one could talk over it, which was just as well because the next words out of my mouth weren’t going to be pleasant.
We pulled over outside the small row of shops on the corner of Blossom and Honeysuckle roads. My friend Bianca Sinclair waved at us from where she was cleaning the window of her shop, Resurrection Ink – the tattoo parlor where Arthur, Flynn and I got most of our ink done. I couldn’t bring myself to lift my hand to wave back.
“I’ll just drop you here,” Arthur said, pointing around the corner at Jane’s cottage. “The Jag doesn’t like turning around in that narrow lane.”
Maeve leapt out and yanked open the trunk. Rowan rolled out, rubbing his side. “Bloody stroller in my spleen,” he muttered.
Maeve leaned in the window and pressed her hand to my cheek. “I’m worried about you, grumpy face.”
“You’d be grumpy, too, if you knew where I was going.” And if the one thing that gave your life meaning had been taken away from you.
“I wish you’d tell me where you were going. You can’t keep secrets, Corbin. You’ve already kept a huge secret from me to try and protect me, and I’m telling you it was the wrong decision.”
“Noted.” I pressed my cheek against her hand, the warmth of it giving me a strength I didn’t know was possible. “I will tell you, I promise. I just can’t deal with talking about it right now. I need all the energy I have just to actually do the thing, especially since I’ve got Rowan tagging along.”
“What have you got against Rowan all of a sudden?”
“Nothing. It’s not about me. I’ll explain later.”
“But you think this could help us?”
“I know it could help us. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to get the answers we need.”
“Okay, fine. Good luck out there, mystery man.” Maeve pressed her mouth to my forehead, and darted away to catch up with Jane.
Arthur yanked the car away from the curb so hard my body jerked forward and I slammed my head into the dash. “Steady on!” I rubbed my head. That’s going to leave a lump.
“Did you do something with Maeve?” he growled, as he jerked the wheel around a corner. Rowan’s belt flew out of his hands, and he slid across the backseat.
“Careful, mate.” I gripped the edge of the window. “I don’t think this car can handle a Formula 1 circuit.”
Arthur stared straight ahead, his teeth grinding together. “I asked a question, Corbin.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, we both did. But we didn’t break the rule. At least, I didn’t. Maeve made the first move.”
“She made the first move with me, too.” Rowan said quietly.
“She’s been with you, too?” Arthur looked totally buggered.
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” I said, feeling I should stick up for Rowan, despite the fact he’d probably ruined my chances of success by coming along. Why shouldn’t Maeve want him? He was… well, he was special.
“So how far has this gone?” Arthur growled.
I didn’t say anything. He could fill in the gaps.
“And Flynn, too?” Arthur asked.
“Flynn and I… did some stuff,” I said. “Not all the way, but we might have if Rowan hadn’t interrupted.”
“Sorry,” Rowan whispered.
“Mate, don’t apologize. But yeah, I don’t know what Flynn might’ve done on his own.”
“Fuck,” Arthur growled. “Next you’ll tell me she’s been with Blake, too.”
I bloody hope not. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “You know what the atmosphere in the house has been like since she arrived. It was bound to be this way – Maeve seems to be forming a connection with each of us, and if those dreams of hers are any indication, she doesn’t want to choose.”
“I like her,” Arthur said.
“We all do.”
“No.”
Arthur seemed to be struggling with words. “I like her. I want—fuck!”
A flame burst from the dashboard behind the steering wheel. Arthur yanked his hands off the wheel and the car lurched to the other side of the road.
Without Flynn here to put the fire out, it leapt high, licking the windshield glass and crawling up toward the canvas roof. A horrible chemically smell filled the car. Quickly, I sucked all the air from inside. Arthur’s face puckered as the air was driven from his lungs, his fingers on the wheel turning bone white. Without oxygen, the flame fizzed out, and I released the air. Arthur and Rowan gasped for breath.
“That was close,” Rowan breathed.
Arthur leaned over the wheel. I wanted to reach out to him, pat him on the back or something, but Arthur didn’t do that kind of shit. He never had a dad like mine, a dad who supported him and gave him books to read and told him he was doing a good job. He had no idea what to do with his emotions, which was why they flared up at inappropriate times and set fire to his precious car.
Arthur stomped on the brake so hard my body lurched forward, my forehead coming only a hair’s breadth from hitting the windshield before the seatbelt yanked me back. “Mate, are you—”
“Get out,” Arthur mumbled, not looking up.
“But—”
“I said, get out.”
I pushed the door open and dragged myself out. Arthur sped off before Rowan had even properly shut the door.
“What’s his problem?” Rowan asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring down at his shoes. Whenever Rowan went outside of the castle, he had to count the eyelets in his shoes. Most of his obsessive behaviors didn’t make sense beyond his need to control his anxiety, but this one I thought I could explain. When I found Rowan, he was drowning in a pool of his own urine in a flophouse, off his face on heroin, his bones jutting out of his sagging skin like drumsticks. His torn clothes reeked of shit and rotting flesh, and he wasn’t wearing any shoes. When he was outside, especially with concrete beneath his feet, he had to look down and remember that he was a different person now, a person who wears shoes and drinks tea and had a life worth living.
The Castle of Fire and Fable Page 8