by Sarra Cannon
“That’s hard to explain without getting into the politics, and I don’t want to bore you. But, suffice it to say, all of us—Sídhe of a certain age—have to complete a period of mandatory conscription. We go out in the world and keep order amongst our kind and other magic folk. I guess I’m sort of the general of this rag-tag contingency.”
“You are? I would have guessed Thom.”
“Thom is my Second. Poor sucker. Constantly scraping me up and whisking me away.”
“Do I even want to know what keeping order entails?” She didn’t even have to ask, because, duh, no. Ignorance was bliss. For instance, she’d been far happier before her introduction to Heath’s suspicious bulge.
He worked his chin left and right over her shoulder. A no. “The details are boring. Don’t concern yourself.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She tried to stand, only to be tugged back down.
He murmured something harsh and foreign against her hair, and she started when the cottage’s door rattled open.
Thom gave Heath a head bob of acknowledgement, and tossed his heavy duffle bag to the floor. It fell with a dull thud that raised dust. Apparently, Simone had been remiss in her cleaning duties in that regard. She couldn’t possibly be everywhere at once, and sometimes things in the cottage took the backburner.
She sighed. “You people have your own rooms.”
Thom shrugged. “We tend to cluster. I guess you’ll have to get used to that.”
“Why would I have to get used to it?”
He raised one dark sable eyebrow and grabbed the bottle of Guinness Siobhan slid across the counter at him. “You don’t strike me as the stupid sort. I would have thought you’d figured it out by now.”
“Figured what out?”
“You’re his.”
“You’re insane.”
He grunted and took a long draught of beer. “We’re Sídhe. Insanity is built into our DNA, but this is pretty straightforward. No question about it.”
“Why, because you say so?”
“No, because Heath obviously thinks it’s so. He’d know. You have any idea whose lap you’re sitting on?”
“Just another fairy with dirty sheets I need to wash.”
“More than that, dear. He’s your prince. How about a little respect?”
“Prince?” She had to close her eyes and cover her ears to block out all the stupidity. Her head hurt.
Okay. She’d roll with it. They were all nuts, but they paid in cash and cash would spend just fine in Cozumel. She’d cope. She was good at that.
— —
Heath brushed a swath of Simone’s hair away from her cheek and let his fingers graze the satiny skin there. “Admit it. It was a tolerable meal.”
She exhaled, closed her eyes, and straightened up in her seat. “Better than tolerable. It certainly had more courses than I’ve had in a meal in a long time.”
Perry, perched on the counter next to the microwave with his plate on his lap, asked, “When’s the last time you ate with other people?”
“Oh, I do that all the time.” Simone pulled her glass, which contained some unholy abomination she called “sweet tea,” closer and took a sip. “In fact, last week, I was at the seafood joint right up the highway. There were at least ten other people there the same time I was.”
“Tell me you’re being facetious,” Heath said.
She bobbed her shoulders. “I don’t know many people here. Like I said, I came out to visit my aunt for a long weekend, and she asked me to watch the front desk so she could drive into Elizabeth City and take care of some business. That was six years ago. Haven’t heard from her since.”
He propped his elbow on the table and turned his body to face her. “How’d you find out the terms of the curse?”
“Oh, a note. My aunt left me a note. Sweet of her.” She made air-quotes. “‘Dear Simone. By the time you’ve read this note, you’re already screwed. Sorry.’ Only slight paraphrasing there.”
“So, that’s it?” Siobhan stopped pushing the wet dishrag across the counter and furrowed her brow at Simone. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Usually there’s some sort of expiration date or component that needs to be fulfilled for the curse to unravel.”
“That’s the thing.” Simone drummed her fingertips against the laminate tabletop and scrunched her pretty face. “There was an expiration. My grandmother was supposed to serve this place until she died or there were two weeks without a guest…but she left.”
“And then your aunt left.” Heath figured it was the natural conclusion.
“Right. So, I’m stuck here until I either die, until business falls off, or until I hoodwink some family member into taking over for me. There’s no one left who could do it unless my aunt has spawned in the past six years.”
Thom, in the corner, cracked his knuckles. “You want me to find out? I can find out.”
“Settle down, big guy.” She chuckled and leaned back in her chair. “Pretty sure it’s illegal in this state to have a minor running a business.”
“And you’re just supposed to be gracious about it? Welcoming?” Siobhan’s face flushed red with apparent anger, and her blue eyes held a glint of malevolence.
Careful, sister. Heath caught her gaze and gave his head a small shake.
She rolled her eyes.
Last thing they needed was for another one of them to catch the cosmic backlash, but he couldn’t really fault her for her agitation. Fairies in general, but Sídhe especially, tended to be exceptionally aggressive when it came to protecting people they cared about. Obviously in the few days he’d been laid out, Siobhan had formed an attachment to his innkeeper. That was a good thing, or the centuries ahead would surely be bloody ones. Most siblings fought, but most siblings weren’t fairies who could inflict pain from across a room if they wanted to.
“Like I said, it wasn’t meant to be my burden.” Simone’s voice pulled his attention back to the matter at hand—the curse. “From what I heard growing up, my grandmother was a nasty woman.”
“Apparently, she never learned her lesson,” Siobhan said.
“Hey.” Heath had a theory he wanted to test—one that could possibly prove he was what he claimed to be. He took Simone’s hands and pulled her to her feet. “You ever been on a bike?”
She pushed up an eyebrow. “I had a ten-speed when I was a kid. Took a curb the wrong way and fell into the neighbor’s impatiens.”
“You knew exactly what I meant. Siobhan, you still got a spare helmet in your bag?”
“Always.”
“Loan her your jacket, will you? It’s windy.”
Siobhan tossed her rag into the sink, followed him and Simone through the storm door, and strode across the lot to her back-facing room.
He had another thought, and called after her, “Hey, Siobhan, get Daryn’s jacket. Wear yours.”
The twins Daryn and Caryl made up two-thirds of the crew’s feminine contingency. Either lady would have been equally gracious about loaning their coat to Simone, but he didn’t think Caryl’s studded gray monstrosity would be nearly as flattering.
Simone gave his side a squeeze. “What are you doing?”
“Testing a theory.”
Siobhan met them in the front lot and handed Daryn’s heavy, blue leather jacket to Simone.
Simone shrugged into it, zipping it up to the chin. Although she was at least average height and had no shortage of curves, she practically swam in it, and the sight made Heath grin.
“Gotta get you your own,” he said.
“Six years ago, I had a fabulous leather bomber jacket. Wonder which thrift shop acquired it and sold it,” she said with an eye roll.
Ouch. He hadn’t considered the disruption. How she must have watched from afar as her old life crumbled and couldn’t do a damned thing about it.
He settled Simone onto the back of his bike and took careful note of his odometer’s reading while Siobhan pushed a helmet over his mate’s he
ad.
“Stay close, Siobhan. Don’t pass me until I give you the signal.”
“Oi.”
“Where are you people from, anyway?” Simone asked when he’d mounted the bike seat in front of her.
“Here and there.”
“Be more specific.”
“Somewhere in the UK…at least me and Siobhan. The Sídhe concept of geography varies from mankind’s a bit, so it’s hard to be specific.”
“Scottish or Irish? I can never tell the accents apart.”
“I don’t have an accent.” And he meant it. He didn’t. He didn’t think he did, anyway.
“Liar.”
“He was actually born in the Faroe Islands,” Siobhan said. “That’s where our parents were at the time. We don’t have a nationality, not really, but our passports are Irish. That’s where our mounds are. Or at least, you can access them from there. I guess we pick up bits and pieces of accents as we’ve had to learn so many local languages to integrate.”
“Mounds?”
Siobhan giggled, and then started her bike. She revved her engine, and shouted, “We’re going to have so much fun with you!”
That’s what Heath was hoping. If his theory played out the way he hoped, they’d be having all kinds of fun and very soon.
He turned south onto 12 toward the National Seashore, and watched his odometer closely. At just about five miles in, he waved Siobhan past him and slowed, killing his engine at the mile marker. Siobhan slowed and made a U-turn.
“What are you doing?” Simone asked when he peeled her helmet off.
He helped her down from his bike. “Humor me.”
Siobhan came back around, and he held up a hand, telling her to keep some distance.
She parked across the street, just past the mile marker.
“Stay here with my bike, will ya?” he asked Simone.
“Uh. Okay.”
Heath passed that imaginary line, feeling nothing. Not even a twinge. Then he waved Simone toward him. “Come here.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. What is this, Tease and Annoy Simone Day?”
Blowing out a breath, he rubbed his eyes with his fists. “Go with the flow. Please.”
She studied him across that line a moment, and then shrugged. She looked down at the road, at her feet, and took a few tentative paces forward. Maybe a foot across the mile marker line, she stopped. “That’s it. Southern boundary.”
“Okay. Take a step back, please.”
She did, crossing her arms over her chest and looking rightfully miffed. She probably felt like a zoo animal being watched and observed. He hated to do it to her, but he had to know for sure.
He joined her on that side of the line once more, and nudged her toward it.
“What are you doing?”
“Please, Simone. Walk across it if you can.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’ve been called worse.” Again, his mother called him daft every time she saw him, and given she was batshit crazy, coming from her, it was a real insult.
When Simone obviously realized he wasn’t going to budge, she took the steps. Then some more. And more. She laughed and danced as she ran further south. Quickly, she came back around, pausing just on her side of the barrier, just out of touching distance of him.
He grinned.
“I don’t understand. Why does that work? Come here.”
He shook his head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause you’re mine. And what’s yours is mine, and vice versa. You left, so the burden’s mine now.”
“Wait…no.” She stepped back across the mile line. “No. Fucking. Way.”
He drew her into him, hugging her, kissing the top of her head. “Which part? You being my mate or the goddamned curse part?”
“Uh…wait…mate?”
Siobhan joined their little cluster on the wrong side. “I think I understand my presence here.” She gave them both a little nudge southward.
Heath moved, and pulled a stubborn Simone along with him. They crossed the line, no problem.
Turning back to Siobhan, he asked, “Well?”
She shook her head. “Can’t. I see no obstacle preventing my movement, but I can go no farther.”
Simone’s mouth opened, then closed wordlessly, and she tilted her face up to his. “Is this for real?”
“In our world, this is ordinary. Common, even. But look—it means you could leave.”
“There’s got to be a trick, and I’m not falling for it.” She pulled Heath back across the mile line and pushed the helmet down over her head once more. “I know the rules. Two weeks. I’m going to wait them out and get rid of this stupid curse fair and square.”
Gods. Rubbing his eyes yet again, he groaned. “It’s fate, Simone. You have someone to help lighten the load now. And for all we know, this was the curse-casting god’s plan all along.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“It’s okay,” Siobhan said, drawing both of them into an awkward embrace. “I like the idea of having a home base when I need one. It’ll give me something to spend my scads of money on. What fun is being rich if you don’t get to spend all that money?”
“On my rough and ragged motel, you mean?”
Heath didn’t have to see Simone’s face to know precisely where her eyebrows were positioned at the moment. They were likely almost at her hairline, and maybe even twitching.
“And maybe the cottage,” Siobhan said. “Are you allowed to run a dock to the water? I have this great idea for—”
Heath gave his sister a push toward her bike. “Gods, get on it.”
“I will, but only because I was going to anyway.” She stuck out her tongue and gave him a bit of a fairy fuck-you by lashing a bit of her darker energy at his face and making him gag.
Simone stood very still, staring at him.
“You’re not convinced,” he said.
She gave her head a slow shake. “Don’t take it personally. I have trust issues.”
“I’m not worried. I’m very convincing when I want to be.”
Chapter 4
While the fairies continued their unintentional destruction of Simone’s little house, she let herself into the room Perry shared with Matt and set about remaking the beds. Apparently, they were hurricanes in their sleep. The sheets on both beds were tangled into knots and the mattress of one dangled halfway to the floor. “Jeez.” She bumped the mattress back into place with their hips.
“Thom probably thought the two of them bunking together would be a good idea.”
Simone yipped at the sound of Heath’s voice and dropped the pillow she was holding. She caught it before it hit the floor only to throw it hard at him. “Stop sneaking up on people like that!”
He wore that damnable, smug grin as he pushed his dark curtain of hair out of his eyes. “I was plenty loud. Perhaps if you weren’t trapped in your own head, you would have heard me.”
She growled at him and moved around the bed to tuck in the sheets on the side.
“Matt’s my cousin, you know, and Thom’s charged with keeping an eye on him.”
“Is he? He’s more or less human, though, right?”
Heath grunted. “I believe the genealogy math says we’re second cousins. His grandmother was my first cousin.”
“And she’s…”
“Sídhe? Yes, but dead. His father, Oliver, was in my crew for a bit about twenty years ago. Hell of a fighter. Deadly with an ax.”
“You recruit them young, huh?” She fluffed one of the squashed pillows and tossed it toward the headboard. She’d thought it time and time again every time she had a conversation with Matt. He was so young. While he was very mature about some things, the fact of the matter was that he was an eighteen-year-old kid without very much life experience. He should have been chasing a degree. Hell, chasing girls. Not monsters or whatever the hell the crew did when they were on the road. She still had no clue.
&nbs
p; “I didn’t recruit him at all. He’s with me as a matter of necessity, though it’s mutually beneficial.”
“What sort of necessity?”
“Goes back to that conscription thing the crew bitches about. It’s mandatory in our realm. My mum’s idea. We all serve for a set period when we reach young adult age, though our service periods vary depending on who we are.”
“And you and Siobhan weren’t exempted, I’m guessing.”
He snorted. “We’d be the last to be exempted, let’s put it that way.”
“When does your service end?”
“Soon, perhaps,” he said, cocking his chin.
“Well, that’s perfectly mysterious.” She moved on to the other bed which she guessed belonged to Perry given the pile of wadded up notebook paper beside it. He fancied himself a poet and she had endured several…well, enthusiastic recitals of his “art” already. The guy had some odd ideas about love, but she didn’t want to squash his ego. Maybe he’d get better at it. She nudged all the paper aside with her foot and tucked in the sheets.
“Do you think perhaps you could pack a bag?” Heath asked.
“Dinner to go? If you want that, perhaps you should try the Holiday Inn. I think they have those there.”
“Oh, you won’t be getting rid of me that easily.” He pushed off the wall he was holding up and stalked over. “Pack a bag of your own, I mean. A couple of days of clothing.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Field trip.”
“I’ll pass. I’ve got a motel to take care of.”
“I would have thought you’d be chomping at the bit to clear out of this place for a while.”
“And I am.” She picked up Perry’s discarded jacket and laid it over the back of the chair. “I just want to do it the right way.”
“You mean the curse? I don’t think it’ll make much difference if you’re here, to be honest. Just turn on the No Vacancy sign. It wouldn’t be a lie.”
“So I guess you’re not taking your crew with you.”
“Nope, just you, me, and Thom. Siobhan would obviously have to stay.”
“Does she know that?”
“Of course. She’s been begging for a bleeding vacation for months, and I guess this is close enough. Anything pressing that goes on in our absence, I’m sure she and the girls can take care of.”