“Vlad is planning big things. Huge things. Things that will greatly affect us all. Here. In the Realm. And even in the Underworld. You cannot let him have Charity. He’ll know exactly how to use her to manipulate the warrior fae. She needs to be in the protective fold of her kind. I cannot stress that enough.”
“I heard you the first time,” Roger growled.
The door opened, revealing a grim-faced Alder. “She wishes to speak with Devon.”
Roger motioned Devon in before turning back to Reagan.
“I now have a vested interest,” Devon heard Reagan say as he headed toward the house. “I shouldn’t go too deeply into the Realm, at present, but I’ll help in the Brink.”
“What about Darius?” Roger asked.
“Darius will have to make a choice—”
Alder closed the door behind Devon, muffling their voices. The chair Charity had sat in was now vacant. Alder moved around the table to take up his previous position, as though Ms. Bristol needed protection.
“Where’s Charity?” Devon asked.
Karen tilted the martini glass back, sucking the last bit dry. “Outside.” The glass clinked as she set it back on the table. “She needed to go for a walk and get some fresh air.”
“What’d you see for her?”
Karen’s blue eyes cut through him, her gaze nearly as sharp as Roger’s. “That’s none of your business, young man. You don’t own her. Now, let’s see…”
She leaned forward and looked into his eyes. Goosebumps crawled along his skin. Karen nodded and pulled the crystal ball in front of her.
White mist rolled and boiled within the glass. Colors flashed from deep within, and he started. He hadn’t expected that. Black threads wove through the white, followed by flashes of green. Then streaks of orange. Devon’s small hairs stood on end as tingles swept across his skin. Magic rolled and boiled in the living room like the mists within the glass, potent and powerful. Devon had heard about Ms. Bristol’s magic, but he hadn’t believed all the hype.
Now he understood why Alder stood by her side, in rapture. Her magic was almost a living thing, stretching out to the limits of the universe while nestled in the confines of that crystal ball. Devon’s wolf practically cowered within him, awestruck, sensing something that defied the laws of physics.
In a moment and an eternity both, his ears popped. His heart rate settled down. Alder shifted his stance and took a breath. The carnival ride of the cosmos was complete.
Ms. Bristol nodded and held up her martini glass. “I need another one of these, please.”
Alder moved to refill it immediately.
She pushed the ball away and, her eyes a little hazy now, refocused on Devon.
“Sometimes, the things we love the most do us the most harm.” She entwined her fingers. “And you do love her.” Her brow furrowed. “Or you will. It’s hard to tell which from the mists. But the time will come when you need to make a choice. A choice that concerns the rest of your life and, more importantly, her life.”
Devon’s gut pinched.
“I cannot see when this choice will come, but you will know when it is before you. The choice you must make will be against your heart. Against everything you’ve always wanted. Against your very being. To save Charity’s life—to give her a life—you must take the hard road, sacrifice your heart, and let her go.”
He shook his head and stood, his middle aching.
Ms. Bristol looked up at him as Alder rounded the corner with a refreshed martini. Her gaze was focused and dominant. Her conviction was unassailable. “When the time comes, Devon, if you truly love her, you must walk away.”
Devon shook his head. “She relies on me to have her back. We’re a team. We look out for each other. How can walking away from her, leaving her vulnerable, be the best possible plan?”
Ms. Bristol took the martini glass and sipped. She leaned back in her chair. “I have no idea.”
Devon tilted his head. “What?”
She shrugged. “I can’t see that part. I can only see your crossroads, and the choice you must make. Everything else is hazy and unformed. I don’t put images in the ball, kid. I just read what it gives me.”
“That’s bullshit,” Devon spat.
“Watch yourself,” Alder said quietly, like a whip to Devon’s wolf.
Devon’s muscles tensed and his body bristled. He stared into Alder’s eyes.
Alder returned his stare, and Devon prepared for the older, harder wolf to force him to submit. Instead, Alder said, “She’s out back. She could probably use your company.”
Devon was moving before he consciously thought to. After a quick detour, he found Charity sitting on the edge of the porch, looking out at the trees. Quietly, he sat down beside her, his gut churning.
“Hey,” he said softly.
She glanced his way, and worry crinkled her eyes. She forced a smile. The effort was obvious, and his heart twisted painfully.
“Tarot? Really?” She went back to looking at the trees. “I’m sorry, Devon, but is that really magic? I’ve had my fortune read plenty of times, and it was all cockamamie. None of it came true.”
She stood in a rush and turned his way, her magic rising.
“The Brink is my home. This is my home”—she gestured around her—“as long as you’ll have me. Finishing school is my dream. Making something of myself is my dream. This is my choice, not…” She flung her hand, indicating something in the distance.
He stood with her, wondering what had happened to her sword.
“The woman is a fraud.”
He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to him. She looked into his eyes, opening herself to him in a way no other woman had, in a way he cherished, and was eager to reciprocate.
“I love you,” he said, feeling it with every ounce of his person. “I will always protect you. This will always be your home.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she pulled his head down, her kiss sweet but fervent. She clung to him and whispered against his lips, “I love you too. I will always choose you. Over everything.”
“I got you something.” He grabbed the package off the porch where he’d set it down earlier.
She peeled back the plain brown wrapping, pausing to wipe a tear from her cheek, and then gasped at the picture on the box. A silver frame, simple yet elegant.
“It’s engraved.” He pointed awkwardly at the top of the box.
Another tear slipped down her cheek from her shining eyes. She opened the flap and pulled out the inscribed frame: A mother’s happiness is like a beacon, lighting up the future but reflected also on the past in the guise of fond memories.
“The quote is by Honore de Balzac. I thought it fit. We can order a different one, though, if you have something else in mind.”
“No.” She shook with silent sobs. “It’s perfect, Devon.” She ran her thumb across the inscription. “It’s absolutely perfect.”
“That’s what I ordered in that shop you saw me in with Yasmine,” he explained, resting a hand on her waist so he could touch her. “I thought you might like a nice frame for your mother’s picture.”
She slipped the frame back in the box carefully, as though it were a priceless relic, and then wrapped her arms around his middle. “I love you. Thank you.”
He kissed her again and held her tightly. He’d never felt this way about anyone, and he knew, deep in his gut, that he never would again. He and Charity had traveled a hard road, but he was thankful for it. It had taught him about himself. About what he was capable of. About the ability to love another person.
He’d found the woman of his dreams, and he never wanted to let her go.
Besides, no fortune-teller was right all the time, not even Ms. Bristol.
* * *
Karen watched the young, headstrong alpha walk away. She sipped her martini again, completely spent. She hated when she had to deliver bad news.
“The Realm will be divided, and that young woman is the key. Her fate—all
our fates—will rest on that young man’s ability to do the right thing. There aren’t many who would be strong enough, not given what he’ll be up against.”
Alder walked to the window and looked out. “He has amazing potential. Roger has always seen it. When the time is right, Devon will do what needs to be done. Roger has faith in him.”
Karen took another sip of her martini, and then turned it into a gulp. “I really wanted to tell him that the only way to get his happily ever after is to do as I said, but the mists forbade it. They’re a bunch of awful jackasses.”
“They clearly know the way to get the most favorable outcome.”
“Oh, don’t you take their side.” She collected up her cards. “I’ve done all I can do for them. For their journey. Tell Roger that she can wait until the next quarter ends, but no longer. And if she waits that long, Devon must be strong enough to help her balance her magic. If he’s not, she’ll die on the journey.”
“I’ve made the notes. I’ll make sure Roger understands the gravity of the situation.”
Karen nodded, then drained her glass. “I hear that woman is a remarkable cook. What’s for dinner?”
* * *
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Warrior Fae: Princess
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Chapter 1
Steve hummed a little tune as he waited on the Brink side of the portal in the Southside of Chicago. He would get the rare opportunity of shepherding in the new guys Roger had sent to join Devon’s pack. Rough and fierce, these three shifters were called in when things got hairy. Given Charity was getting strong magical surges and needed to be rushed through the dangerous wilds to the Flush, a place in the Realm where a subset of fae lived, so she could get aid from what was hopefully her people, Devon was going to need experience in his numbers.
Speaking of Devon—Steve checked his watch — he and his pack were supposed to be there ten minutes ago. Their flight from Santa Cruz must’ve been delayed.
It wasn’t like Roger to trust Steve with authoritative duties. Hell, it wasn’t like Roger to trust Steve with anything besides fighting. The alpha liked to keep Steve on a tight leash where he could. Then again, maybe Roger thought Emery would keep things in line. The Rogue Natural would be leading them through the wilds, trying to sneak around the elves who were patrolling in large numbers. It would be a longer and slower route than most other ways, but that was why there wouldn’t be elves standing in the way. He knew the wilds of the Realm as well as anyone could. His knowledge made him indispensable. But his choice of company made Roger a little nervous.
Emery ran with a couple of magical chicks that could bring a grown man to tears. One of those chicks, a fire-starter with a joy of killing things, was shacking up with an elder vampire. Vlad’s buddy, to be precise. If they didn’t need his expertise so badly, no way would Roger use him.
Roger apparently didn’t realize that Emery wasn’t one to follow orders any better than Steve. He was supposed to be here too, but the mage had decided to wait in Seattle until the last minute, where he’d then use a couple magical fast tracks, somehow skirting past loitering elves to do so, and rendezvous with Devon’s pack at the agreed upon time and place. It was dicey, Emery’s plan, especially since he’d expressly forbidden those types of patrolled magical roads when Charity was in toe, but it wasn’t Steve’s place to say boo. Given that Emery wasn’t pack, Roger couldn’t do dick about his decision, which was how Steve had gotten the solo role of fucking with the new guys.
Roger should’ve known better.
He looked around the deserted warehouse parking lot. This place was a real dump. Trash littered the streets, show windows were boarded up or broken, and a couple of used condoms were draped over a cracked parking bump five feet away. A fixer-upper, but the people here sure knew how to party.
He hoped someone tried to mug him.
The portal shimmered white before a booted foot stepped through the jagged slice in the sky. Although Steve didn’t know these shifters personally, he’d seen all three of them in passing and heard plenty of stories. Steve combined with these three would equal ten decent shifters on the battlefield, they were that good.
The first to step through was Dale, complete with a stupid-looking mustache and a bump in the side of his lower lip from his chewing tobacco. His small black eyes trained on Steve before drifting away, sussing out the area.
“This place is a shit-hole,” Dale said, taking a wide stance with his hands on his hips. “This where that chick’s father lives?”
“The broken down warehouse, yes.” Steve pointed at the condoms. “This is her boudoir where she entertains men-folk. She wasn’t here, though, so they just got after it themselves. Too bad you missed the action.”
Dale shook his head, his gaze barely flicking toward the mess. “Do you got duct tape for that mouth?”
“My, my. Kinky. Sorry, Chuck, I don’t swing that way.”
Dale’s eyebrows pinched together. “My name is Dale, and I wanted that tape to shut you up, dipshit.”
Steve grinned. Nothing irritated self-important pricks more than when you got their names wrong.
They were here to do what Alder, the beta of the North American pack, hadn’t been able to do those few months ago—talk to Charity’s father and try to get some proof of Charity’s ancestry. They wanted to make sure she was actually custodes—a guardian—a subset of fae known to their people as protectors. Back before the elves took the Realm in hand, giving it order and decency, the custodes watched over the fae, using their superior strength and speed to keep the beasties away. It was because of this efficiency and brutality in battle that they earned a nickname from the rest of the magical world. They weren’t called protectors, they were called warriors.
Steve didn’t often listen to Alder’s history lessons, but this one had had him in rapt attention. He remembered Charity at what he now referred to as Vlad’s impromptu barbecue. She was fierce and intense, ripping through vamps and demons like she was born to it. It had been thrilling. He wanted to know more of her people.
But first, they had to know more about her.
So after the little meet and greet with daddy, they would trek deep into the Realm, hoping to get Charity fixed up. Roger figured Charity could get the pack past the old man and his shotgun without someone getting shot. From what Steve had heard, Charity wasn’t so sure.
Barbara stepped through the portal next, her camo jumpsuit and army boots strange for this detail. The only plants in the area were the brown, scraggly bushes and a few dying trees dotting the sidewalk. She clearly hadn’t quite understood the term urban jungle.
Despite her dress code confusion, she was a moderately attractive lady with a good, perky rack. Steve had heard she was a humorless woman with no use for men, but maybe that was because she hadn’t gotten tickled just right yet. He wouldn’t mind showing her how fun a man could be. They’d have to do something about that intense scowl, though. It was a dick shriveler, for sure.
Cole came through last, all six feet five inches of him. The guy was massive, with a barrel chest, thick swinging arms, and a big flat face. He looked like he’d gotten kicked repeatedly with an ugly boot and left for dead.
Steve had seen the were-yeti in battle a few times, and the dude was fierce. Cole didn’t give a damn what the danger was, he ran flat out at anything the enemy could throw at him. Granted, flat out was more of a slow lumber, but when he eventually got there, he ripped through his opponent no holds barred, vicious and intense.
Steve nearly chuckled.
Three intense fighters, a rogue natural who’d earned his stripes by going his
own way, a warrior fae losing control of her magic, and a green alpha who intended to lead them all.
He’d never say it to the alpha’s face, because he didn’t want his head ripped off, but this whole situation was a clusterfuck. Roger was crazy for thinking a college kid could lead these rough-and-tumble shifters. They’d walk all over Devon the instant he issued an order one of them didn’t like. The discord would likely make the Rogue Natural bugger off back to his crazy old lady and her vampire loving friend.
If Steve were a smarter man, he never would have volunteered for this detail.
“What’s the story with the kid alpha, anyway?” Dale asked as Barbara noticed the condoms not far from her boot. She didn’t bother shifting away, just looked on, scouting the area. Nerves of steel, definitely. “Roger didn’t give us too much to go on.”
“He’s an up-and-comer,” Steve answered, checking the time on his phone. No word on what was keeping Devon. They must’ve been close. “He was the head of a pack in charge of extinguishing newbies. Did well there. I hear he took out a couple mid-level vamps on his own, and had a go at Vlad.”
“Got his ass handed to him,” Barbara said, eyes scanning. “Rookie move, going for Vlad.”
“He did it to save the fae,” Cole boomed, incapable of volume control. He’d be great at the hiding game, surely. Good call, Roger. “I was there. I saw it.”
“Still,” Barbara said.
Dale spat out a stream of brown liquid. “Vlad is of particular interest to the elves, lately. I got stopped by one of their grunts as I was running through the Realm. A sprite. She asked what had prompted Roger to try and take Vlad down.”
“What’d you say?” Cole boomed.
“He’s only a few feet away from you, bro,” Steve said, putting some distance between himself and the were-yeti. “You don’t need to yell.
Dale shrugged at Cole. “A load of bollocks. That they had a grudge match because Roger got all his newbies…”
Warrior Fae Trapped: A DDVN Book Page 31