The Series that Just Plain Sucks: The Complete Trilogy

by Charissa Dufour

  Travis and the other wolves sidled up against me, making their opinions known. I had a feeling that some of it was because they enjoyed the fight. In the quiet of a safe bedroom they may talk logic and wisdom, but in a dark alley they would opt for chasing bad guys and saving women. It made me like them more.

  “This isn’t up for discussion,” snapped Periphetes.

  I ground my teeth together. “And why not? You’re not my primus. You have no authority of me or what I do. Don’t get me wrong, I’d really like to have your help when I go visit the Winter Fae, but you can’t stop me.”

  Periphetes glared down at me, his pale skin showing the faintest hint of a blush. “What say you, Lauren?” he asked, never taking his eyes off me.

  “I’ve got no other plans tonight.”

  I did a double take. Was she serious? We were asking her to go after the Winter Court for a complete stranger with people she had met fifteen minutes ago. I was starting to suspect this woman, while powerful, was a few peas short of a casserole, or maybe she just didn’t have a sense of self-preservation. Either way, I wasn’t about to argue with her willingness to help.

  Periphetes was greatly outnumbered.

  “Fine,” he sighed, resigned to the realization that we would be going with or without him. With him would just be a lot easier. “I suppose a visit to the house of my childhood is long over-due. We will question my father there. Let’s take my car.”

  We followed the fae to his car and climbed in. It was a tight fit. Periphetes, Jordan, Lauren, and one wolf took the front seats, while I was wedged between the other two wolves in the back seat. There was no way all three wolves could have fit together. I was just happy not to be in the trunk.

  We drove across the bridge to the West Side, which took a while, thanks to Lauren’s fire closing it down to one lane, and down a street that wound along the bay. A few minutes later we turned up a narrow street that climbed the hillside, and onto a long, gravel driveway. The property was one of those oddities where the garage/shop is three times the size of the house. The house was an old, 1930s home, with chipped paint and missing shutters. The shop, on the other hand, was a modern building with three garage bays and an extra section with a human-sized door. All the lights were off, but as we pulled up to the house, a motion detector flicked the porch light on.

  The very silence of the property made me nervous.

  We climbed out of the car, the wolves shaking out their fur in relief, and followed Periphetes up to the creaking porch. The fae raised his hand to knock, but changed his mind at the last minute and opened the unlocked door.

  We walked into the house. Across from the front door rose a narrow staircase. To the left of the stairs was a kitchen that looked original to the house; to the right was the old parlor coated in an impressive layer of dust. We followed Periphetes up the steps as quickly as we could. The sound our group made on the way up could have awakened the dead.

  The steps led to a narrow landing with a door on each wall. Periphetes opened one, Jordan another, and me the third. I knew they hadn’t found anything, because I had. The room I found was small, furnished with nothing but a rickety, metal bed frame—no mattress—and a used bed pan. The floor was stained with fresh blood. I recognized the smell.

  So much for needing the wolves for their noses.

  “She was here,” I said, waving toward the room. I glanced at the bed. The metal headboard showed signs of something rubbing around two of the supports, such as handcuffs. I swallowed the anger and hate rising from my gut.

  Jordan pushed past me and glanced around the empty room.

  “Where’d they take her?” he asked, his worried face turned to me.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. She fought them though. There’s blood. It’s fresh.”

  Jordan looked back at the floor, spotted the blood, and jerked his closed fist outwards, effectively punching the wall. I turned and walked away, unable to handle more fresh blood; the wolves followed me. From the lower level, I could hear Lauren repairing the damage to Jordan’s fist.

  Periphetes followed me.

  “What now?” I asked him.

  “I think I need to go to Orythyia,” he said at the end of a sad, bitter sigh.

  “Your queen?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “No, Ashley.”

  He wasn’t angry anymore. Just sad and tired. My dead heart ached for him.

  “You shouldn’t have to face this alone, Periphetes. I got you into this giant mess. Let me go with you.”

  The fae sighed again before nodding. Travis gave a soft yip, which must have meant: “Don’t forget us.”

  “We’re coming, too,” announced Lauren.

  “You don’t have to,” Periphetes said, addressing all of us. “I don’t know how my queen will react to my appearance, much less if I bring a human, a wizard, a vampire, and three werewolves. This could be very, very dangerous.”

  “We’ve made it this far together,” I observed aloud.

  Everyone nodded in agreement.

  “We’re probably gonna die,” Periphetes said, as though the statement was the final straw. He turned and headed back toward the car.

  Chapter Eighteen

  As we drove, I contemplated just what I had dragged Periphetes into and what sort of reception he would receive from his queen. I knew they had had a “falling out” long ago, but I had no idea how bad it had been or how much in the distant past the incident was. I hoped his queen was forgiving, or at least fickle. What if she just killed him outright?

  I pushed that thought from my mind as the fae pulled the car into the first downtown parking spot he found. Either the fire was drawing all the attention of the local pedestrians, or Periphetes was working the subtle fae magic that kept humans from noticing their activities, because no one seemed concerned about the people walking down the street, flanked by three enormous wolves.

  He took us a few blocks down and slipped into a popular alley. “Popular” and “alley” usually don’t belong in the same sentence, but this one is popular. On one wall of the alley, local artists painted layer upon layer of street art. Despite the darkness of the night, a young man in baggy jeans and a white t-shirt stood staring at the wall, a can of spray paint in his hands.

  The artist looked away from his work and glowered at us. It wasn’t until he was looking straight at us that I realized he was a fae. His nose was too long, almost hanging over his lips like a beak. Most fae used glamors to make them look human, but under a glamor they never look quite right, almost as if they created their glamor based on a description of a human rather than on a real-life model. Some fae were better at it than others. Other than the epic nose, this fae had a decent glamor.

  “I don’t think I should come,” said Jordan before either fae could speak.

  I glanced at Periphetes before frowning up at Jordan. He had wanted to come save Chloe as much as I did. Why was he now changing his mind?

  “It’s the magic that protects our homes from human discovery. Jordan, go home. We’ll handle this.”

  Before I could argue, Jordan nodded and scurried away. I ground my teeth together. I had been counting on Jordan’s support. Though the wolves were ready go into any fight, Periphetes was flat out against me, and Lauren was a passive supporter at best. I needed Jordan. I needed my best friend.

  “Periphetes,” growled the painter, no longer willing to let us finish our private discussion. “Do you bring a peace offering?”

  Periphetes glanced at me before shaking his head. “We come to talk with Orythyia.”

  “But you bring the girl?”

  “Ashley Hawn is under my protection.”

  The man nodded slowly, as if that had some sort of meaning I wasn’t grasping, before turning to the wall and walking through it. I’m sure my eyes grew quite wide, but I shook off the shock to discuss more pressing matters.

  “What does that mean?”

  “What?�
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  “That I’m under your protection?”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Uh… no,” I said. “What does this mean? I’m not going in there until you explain.”

  The fae clamped his mouth shut, clearly determined to remain silent. Damn. He was calling my bluff.

  “It means the queen will be honor bound to do you no harm… unless she’s willing to kill Periphetes first,” explained Lauren, her eyes never leaving the artwork before us.

  “What?”

  Before anyone could speak, the artist reemerged from within the wall and motioned us forward. Periphetes took me by the arm, his grip painful. I had thoroughly pissed him off, but if it saved Chloe, it would be worth it. Or at least that’s what I told myself.

  I cringed as we walked head first into the wall, but the sensation wasn’t painful. Instead, it felt more like walking through wet pasta. On the other side, I found myself using my free hand to wipe imaginary moisture from my face. I glanced over at the wolves. They were sneezing and using their paws to rub their noses. Periphetes appeared untouched by the effects of the mystical wall. Lauren, on the other hand, looked as though she were fighting off the world’s worst spider web.

  When I was about to start laughing at her, Lauren calmed down, giving her clean face one last swipe of her hand.

  I looked around, finally taking stock of our surroundings, and felt a shudder run down my spine. We stood in an enormous entryway, with a wide staircase that split halfway up and headed in opposite directions. It would have felt very “Gone with the Wind” if it wasn’t for the mist rolling down the steps and across the tiled floor, or the gothic statues of naked gods in dramatic poses, or the occasional icicles that hung from the archways and limbs of the statues. The foyer was lit by candelabras that barely penetrated the darkness and yet left unnatural, flickering shadows on the carved stone walls.

  I glanced at Lauren again, but couldn’t bring myself to find her expression humorous. It was a deadly mix of fear and determination, as though she was ready to kill the tiniest ant that tried to cross her path. I couldn’t blame her. I was feeling the same way.

  The room was completely silent except for a faint dripping sound coming from some distant room. I glanced around, wondering if I could figure out where it came from, but all the icicles appeared intact. Another shiver ran up my spine as I tried to tune the incessant noise out.

  To my surprise, the artist-guard led us around the staircase and down a long hallway, where the dripping noise began to echo more loudly. I expected our movement to cause some noise to mask the dripping, but even our footfalls were silent as we trudged through the fog.

  I glanced over my shoulder at Lauren. She had her arms wrapped around her chest and I, belatedly, realized the temperature was a fair distance below room temperature. The wolves had their fur coats, I was a vampire, and this was Periphetes’ natural body temperature, but Lauren, as a human, had to be suffering. I wondered why she didn’t conjure a little ball of flame to keep herself warm, but then I remembered the fire quickly engulfing the boardwalk and thought better of it.

  I kept expecting us to descend stairs into an underground maze like the seethes, but the fae led us further into a labyrinth of halls and small antechambers. In each new corridor, the dripping noise seemed to grow louder, and yet it never got to the point of being uncomfortably loud. In fact, despite the increase in volume, it always sounded just out of reach. I never could pinpoint which direction it came from.

  Finally, when I thought my skin was about to crawl away on its own accord, we stopped inside an antechamber that was devoid of anything but a single icicle hanging from the ceiling in one corner and the ever-present fog rolling across the floor. On the opposite side of the room stood an enormous set of double doors. Surrounding the doors the stone was carved into intricate, swooping patterns leading up to a Greek god at the apex of the door. Flanking the god in a relief that suggested they were standing behind him, were two naked beauties. The door itself looked strong enough to stand a medieval battering ram or a really angry vampire. The doors themselves were framed in silver, with a heavy-duty, silver lock. More carvings could barely be seen through the dim lighting of the antechamber, but they made me think of magical runes for some reason.

  The artist-guard waved his hand at the doors and they parted slowly. I couldn’t see beyond the door, but Periphetes stepped forward boldly. I followed and the second my foot crossed the threshold the darkness dissolved, and I blinked.

  Without any transition I was suddenly standing in the entryway of a 1950’s diner, complete with neon lights and bright red stools. I glanced over at Periphetes and blinked again. In the split second between the gothic nightmare and this new form of hell, Periphetes had changed his clothing. He wore a charcoal gray suit, covered by a long trench coat. A brown fedora sat upon his blond head.

  This made me look down at my own outfit. I was wearing a soft pink poodle skirt, white blouse, and pink scarf tied around my neck. I was even wearing saddle shoes.

  I couldn’t be the only one. I glanced a Lauren.

  The wizard was wearing a quintessential Audrey Hepburn outfit—a sky blue, brocade dress with an elegant high neck and a full skirt that fell to her knees. Her tiny feet were encased in delicate slippers. Even her short hair had grown to match the era.

  Oh, totally not fair! I thought as I glanced over at Lauren. She looked like a movie star, where as I looked as though I had jumped out of a tacky Halloween costume catalogue. At least I wasn’t the only one angry with their outfit. All three wolves were growling as they tried to paw at the ridiculous collars hanging from their necks. Shawn perhaps had the worst of it, wearing a bright pink collar with an enormous, fluorescent green bow on it.

  Someone was playing very dirty.

  I glanced around the room, giving it my full attention now that I knew the worst of our current appearances. A few people sat on the bar stools, sipping on soda pops. Near the back I spotted two youths looking at the options on a jukebox. Sitting in one of the booths, a young woman, with unusually bluish-black hair, was stuffing a hotdog in her mouth. She looked up from her basket of fries and frowned as she chewed the extra-large bite.

  Periphetes bowed to her before weaving his way through the empty tables and taking a seat opposite her. I wasn’t sure what to do so I scurried after him. Lauren and the wolves followed.

  Without looking at me over his shoulder, Periphetes spoke. “It’s customary to bow to a queen.”

  I glanced at the teenager again, who was washing the hotdog down with a large slurp of her soda.

  Seriously? Why can’t the mythical leaders be hairy, old men?

  I grabbed my annoying skirt and gave her the most sarcastic curtsy I could manage—which was good because without meaning to I nearly lost my balance in the process. Thankfully, my klutziness just added to my message of disdain. I was glad to see Lauren struggle with her own skirts as she tried to curtsy. We twenty-first century people aren’t accustomed to the act of bowing.

  “I take it Hephaestus found you,” the teenager said before taking another bite of her hotdog.

  “He did. And got his people killed.”

  I glanced at Periphetes and swallowed hard. Was he crazy?

  I admit I wasn’t sure what my goal was for this encounter, but I’m pretty sure not dying was part of it. Periphetes seemed determined to start a fight with his queen. For once, I kept my mouth shut. I had to assume the fae knew more about talking to his queen than I did.

  To my utmost relief, she chuckled around her half-chewed hotdog. “Oh! Good for you! I knew there was a reason I missed you, Periphetes.”

  Periphetes gave her a tight, forced smile.

  “So, Hephaestus got his ass whooped. I’ll have to remember that about your little friend next time I attack.” The queen winked at me.

  “She is under my protection, Orythyia.”

  The queen waved at Periphetes with her ketchup-stained paper napkin.

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nbsp; “Please, Periphetes. I don’t make a habit of attacking my guests. She’s safe here. Probably safer here than on the street, what with little wizardlings lighting things on fire.” This time the queen winked at Lauren, who shuffled her feet on the white and black tiled floor. “Periphetes, offer these lovely ladies a seat.”

  Periphetes scooted across the vinyl, leaving us room to sit. I wedged in the middle, leaving the easy exit for Lauren. To my surprise, the wolves, now free of their collars, climbed onto the bench behind us and draped their front paws over the divider so that they could look over our shoulders. I felt hot, wet breath caress the back of my neck and reached up to scratch whichever wolf it was behind the ear—praying it wasn’t Shawn.

  “Now, what can I do for you, Ashley Hawn?”

  “You have my friend, Chloe Lee. I want her release.”

  The fae queen frowned at me, her eyebrows—which proved some portion of her blue-black hair was actually naturally black—furrowed into a delicate frown. “Chloe?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me!” I snapped, my patience nearing its end.

  “Ashley,” Periphetes growled in warning.

  “I do not know your Chloe. I have no human captives at the moment.”

  Her statement made me wonder what sort of nonhuman captives she had in her lair. Suddenly the creepy, gothic passages we had traversed took on a darker tone.

  “We went to Hephaestus’ home. It was clear he had been holding someone hostage there, and Ashley detected the smell of Chloe’s blood. We know she was there.”

  “She may have been there, but she is not here.”

  “Be that as it may, surely you can speak to Hephaestus and find out where he has her now, and why he attacked us today.”

  “Oh I know the reason for that. He was trying to get Ashley here.”

  “If you know why he attacked us, then you know why he has Chloe,” I snapped loudly, drawing the attention of the other fae.