Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Unnamed
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Unnamed
Thank You
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Author Recommends
Email
newsletter.
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Thank You
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Author Recommends
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All mistakes are my own.
Copyright © 2017 Harley Gordon
Cover art by Melody Simmons
Interior Formatting by Heather Griffin
Editing by Tamara Mataya
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.
To all the book lovers who dreamed about the Beast’s library instead of the Beast
“She bade us remember that it was cowardice to succumb to the greatest misfortunes, and that with time and courage there was no evil that could not be remedied.”
― Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve
Chapter 1
The glassy eyes of the naked corpse stare at me and I stare back. Someone killed The Gingerbread Man. I push away the guilt and grief and run through the catalog of what I know about him. He works as a guard for the Fae prison and is mated to Eponine and his power is super speed.
It wasn't enough to save him.
His uniform and ID are missing. Not good.
I look up from my crouch to Red standing beside me. "Call the prison. Tell them to be on high alert. They may have some trouble. Also, tell them to do a head count and make sure no one else is missing."
Red nods, her nostrils flaring as she scents the air. "Will do. But Belle, I'm not smelling much in this form. There's too many people and dumpsters around here."
I turn back to the body. "Call and then change forms to see if you can catch a trail. I'll message Bo and let her know we're going to be late."
Red sighs. "I hate missing Sunday nights."
I don't, but it will disappoint Bo and Hatter if we don't show. "We shouldn't miss too much of it. There's not much we can do tonight until the doc gets through with him." And it's not really our investigation.
Red walks off with her phone, her strawberry blond hair glowing like the sunrise beneath the street lights. I return my attention to Ginger. My stomach roils with sadness and dread. It was a violent death, one of struggle and terror.
The killer stabbed Ginger in the stomach and sliced his throat. Blood soaks the ground beneath him, running through the cobblestones. I'll have the Mad Hatter read his leaves tomorrow. Maybe it won't be too late to find something out. I slip Ginger’s bracelet from his wrist and stick it in my pocket. Hatter's tea reading isn't as strong as his gift of persuasion, but it might give us something.
With a quiet sigh, I stand. "Has anyone found the murder weapon?"
The Fae officers shake their heads. Frustration makes my head pound and ache. I want to be alone, in my store, surrounded by my books. Not out here in the cold, surrounded by blood and death.
Dr. Doolittle arrives and waves me away. "I've got it from here. Has the scene been documented?"
I nod at the slight black woman. "Yes. What do you need from me?" Crime scenes like this are rare for Fae. And as Head Librarian of the Faery Tale Administration, it's even rarer for me to be called to them. It's usually the Constabulary Department's job.
But this happened in my city. On my watch. And I've been sneaking out into the field more, even though the FTA Premiers disapprove of my methods. They're still pissed I went to the Wild Hunt. Apparently, I'm supposed to stay safe and above it all, dealing with the politics and phone calls, and be a paper shuffler.
No, thank you.
Exhaustion weighs down my shoulders at the reminder of all the calls I'll have to make over this.
Red ambles back over and joins me as I watch Dr. Doolittle examine the body.
"Wait for my report. The Constabulary will take it from here and keep you updated. You do your job and we'll do ours." She finally answers my question, but I don't care for the answer.
"Will you have information for me by morning?"
Doolittle shrugs. "Probably earlier. From everything I'm seeing here, it's pretty straightforward."
Glad it is to someone. I'll ask Jackie to join the investigation. She has a natural talent for solving crimes, something she hasn’t had many chances to use in her job as a Librarian.
Red shrugs from her jacket and hands it to me before she yanks her dress over her head. The air around her ripples and in seconds, a wolf stands next to me in place of her. I snatch her boots from the ground and shove everything into my shoulder bag.
Red whines low in her throat and sticks her nose in the air, tasting the different scents swirling around us.
I turn to one of the constabulary officers. "I'm going to send Jackie to you. She can help on the investigation while I deal with the six hundred calls I need to make. Doc, I'll expect your report in the morning. Red, I'll meet you at Bo's."
Not even the excuse of Fae murder is enough to keep me away from ther
e tonight. I tell myself it's because I need Bo and Hatter's help. But I know better. It's because I need to be there, safe, connected, happy. Tonight, I need to remember beauty and magic. Even at the cost of suffocating crowds and mind-numbing chatter.
Red licks my hand and trots away into the shadows.
Doolittle stands, sadness lining her face as she stares down at Ginger. "I don't envy you."
Right now, I don't envy either one of us.
Chapter 2
The Unicorn Bakery transforms on Sunday nights, becoming a place of magic and music and art, a haven for Fae and artists to come together to drink and enjoy poetry and music. When night falls, magic sparkles through the air and transforms the block into a portal into another world.
Bo insists I come. She says it's good for Fae to see me amongst them. I think she just likes to torture me with crowds.
I wipe pale pink froth from my lip, teeth stinging from the sugary coffee, and stare at the mug in horror. "What the hell is this?"
Bo grins, a mad one, a twin to Hatter's. They've been spending too much time together. "Unicorn poop latte. It's a new recipe. Isn't it awful?"
I grimace. "Yes and no. I'm glad I didn't know the name before I tried it."
"That's the genius of it. Lines wrap around the block most mornings for it."
I take another gulp, grimacing again like I downed a shot. "I don't understand. It tastes like cupcakes and laughter, but it’s so sweet it burns."
Red shakes her head, raising her own cup of boring green tea. "I'll stick to this."
Hatter comes up behind Bo and presses a kiss on her neck. "We're up, love."
Bo smiles up at him, taking his hand, and follows him to the makeshift stage she set up in the corner of her bakery. Ever since she hired on a partner in her shop, she's been expanding. It's still a bit on the small side for the size of Sunday night crowds. She hadn't expected how popular it's become. Fae travel from nearby countries to attend. Maybe she should have done it at Hatter's club instead.
Hatter picks up a violin and Bo sits behind her bongo drum, starting off a soft beat.
My book falls closed in my lap as I'm transported by my two friends weaving magic with their instruments. It's a dreamy mash-up of Nirvana, The Beatles, and Metallica. With Bo back in my life, I've been subjected to almost constant music history lessons. I can recognize most singers from the late nineteenth century now. Music from the 1960s to the 1990s are her favorites.
A couple members from Bo's band join them on the stage, instruments in hand. They take seats on stools like they're just sitting around and hanging out making magical music around a campfire. There's no production or performance. They hold odd instruments—a pan flute, a whirly tube, and a ukulele. Hatter pulls a kazoo from his jacket pocket and rests his violin on the floor beside him.
This is new. I recognize a few of the instruments from an internet video Bo showed me a few weeks ago.
My eyes widen with curiosity and delight. The one with the ukulele begins Smells Like Teen Spirit, Bo leading the vocals as she drums out a beat. Then they weave Two Times by the Doors into the song. Bo pulls out a martini shaker, using that to guide the beat instead of the drums. Hatter takes the kazoo from his mouth and sings the chorus of Teenage Dirtbag while Bo sings Teen Spirit. They sing it at each other, sly grins on their faces, their eyes sparkling. It shouldn't work, the songs don't match, but somehow they make it.
They finish the chorus and a worshipful silence falls over the shop, then with a bang and a shake they all go straight back into the chorus of Teenage Dirtbag, gesturing for the rest of us to join in. No instruments, just our joined voices raised together singing an utterly ridiculous song. A giddy smile stretches my mouth so wide my cheeks ache.
Red and I exchange an awed and excited glance as our feet stomp out the beat on the floor.
The song ends, and everyone in the shop claps and whoops as Bo and her band troop off the stage. For the moment, there's a lull, and my attention wanders.
I glance around the crowd. It's a mix tonight, some people paint or draw, some scribble in their notebooks, others clutch instruments and wait for their turn onstage. Bo has it set up so anyone can come and create, and she provides the supplies. The paintings and journals remain, art and poetry and short stories are plastered to her walls from past Sundays.
I recognize a few Fae new to Paris. My eyes snag on one of the men. Spanish coloring even darker than mine, piercing black eyes, an expensive scarlet sweater spread across a muscled chest and arms beneath a black leather jacket. I count at least six different knives hidden under his clothes and I'd bet there are more.
Why is Edmond Dantès in town? He catches me looking at him and raises his own pink-whip topped coffee in a salute. My eyes narrow as I nod in return. I'll have to find out why he's here. He's a mercenary, completely unaffiliated with the FTA. His presence has to be questioned since someone must have hired him for a job here.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I'm not the Head Librarian. I'm just a Fae, here with my friends.
The crowd yells for Hatter and Bo to give an encore, and with grateful grins they return to the stage without instruments this time. The two of them are amazing together. They don't even discuss it before they move straight into a new song, completely in sync. It's an old Billie Holiday song, I'll Be Seeing You. They rasp and croon at each other, making love with their eyes. It's almost uncomfortable to watch them, to see them put the depths of their love on display. At least they don't match anymore. Bo had insisted Hatter change his hair color from the purple he dyed it to be the twin to hers. Hers has grown out since then and instead of the deep plum, it's a riot of pastels, pale blue, pink, and lavender. His is now a bright blue.
One of the best decisions of my life was partnering the two of them. Satisfaction swells my chest. Ever since Bo came back into our lives, the empty space inside me has filled. A space I hadn't even realized was hollow.
"They're incredible." Red leans over to be heard over the thunderous applause as Bo and Hatter hop from the stage.
I grin without taking my eyes off their performance. "I know. And it's all because of me."
Red smiles. "I didn't think they were going to make it for a while."
I didn't either. Especially with the drama of the Wild Hunt being in the same town Bo had lived with her human family so long ago. "Thankfully, Bo got over her issues. Hatter's good for her."
Red drains her tea and sets it back into the saucer. "You know, you could have the same thing."
I raise a brow. "So could you."
Red scoffs. "Touché. It's hard to trust again."
"No one has tempted me enough to even try. What about you?"
"Once. It didn't end well."
I yearn to ask more, but the pain shimmering in Red's emerald eyes keeps my mouth closed. Our origin stories are similar, beasts masquerading as men determined to force us into playing out our stories as though their abuse was romance. It's not something we like to talk about, it's not something we've been able to get over. Not completely. But The Wolf is dead for another twenty years and The Beast is locked up for another couple hundred.
My phone buzzes for the fourth time. With a sigh, I pull the blasted thing from my pocket and check the messages. The phone clatters to the floor as horror stiffens my limbs and shortens my breath.
Bo appears at my side, keeping me from sliding from my chair and joining my phone on the floor. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"There was a breakout at the prison."
Chapter 3
"The Fae prison here? Who?" Red leaps to her feet, worry on her face, a snarl in her throat.
I swallow again and again, trying to moisten my parched mouth. "One of the Charming princes, and a dragon. Possibly more. They're doing a head count. And…the…"
Bo's grip on my arm tightens. "The Beast?"
"Yes." My voice is a robotic rasp, I'm unable to move, to believe this is really happening. He can't be free. "He'll come f
or me."
"You don't know that. He'll probably be too busy trying to stay under the radar. And if he does, we won't let him touch you." Bo turns to Hatter. "Can you close up here? We need to get to the prison and find out how the hell this happened."
Hatter nods and squeezes my shoulder, offering his support. "We'll get him."
Bo and Red lead me from the bakery. Outside, the brisk air helps clear my thoughts. I shove panic and fear deep inside. I can't afford to fall apart. I'm the Head Librarian and this is my responsibility. Even more so with Adam free.
Red's fingers fly across the screen of her phone. "I've told Jackie to meet us there. She probably already knows since she's helping with the murder investigation, but just in case they haven't linked it."
Oh, it's definitely linked. "Good. Thanks."
"Which Charming was it?" Bo asks as she throws her hand in the air for a cab.
"August." The words hiss from between my clenched teeth.
Red opens the cab door. "Has Cinderella been notified?"
I slide into the back seat and give the driver the address. "Yes. They called her after they couldn't get in touch with me."
Bo closes the door and the cab takes off. "Good. How the hell did this happen?"
I stare out the window and watch the streets of Paris speed by. "I don't know. But this is going to make our relationship with the human governments even worse."
"Do they know?" Red asks.
I shake my head, my temples throbbing at the thought of informing them. "Not yet. It's my job to inform them and I'm not doing that until I have all the information." It should be the Premiers' job, but they try to stay out of human affairs as much as they can.
Red sighs. "Maybe we can get them back where they belong before they ever have to know."
"That's my hope." The cab pulls up to the prison gates and lets us out. It takes three steps for me to realize I left my bag in the backseat. I run back for it, ignoring the driver's grumbles.
"Dammit, how did this happen?" Fury laces Bo's words. But beneath it, I hear her fear for me.
Charm (Black Sheep of Faery Book 3) Page 1