But nope, she was a granddaughter of the former Merrow Crown Princess, therefore she was stuck being a banshee as long as she lived.
Cara may not like it, but she didn’t feel like her grandmother had ruined her life.
“After all, falling in love would make people do strange things,” she told Norton. Her grandmother had lived a happy life on land with her banshee husband, even though she had to turn over the crown all those years ago to her brother.
Norton continued his rambling. “Certain things are not allowed to the Crown Princess. Falling in love”—he said the words with utter disgust—“is not an option for royalty. Even the British know that.”
Cara rolled her eyes. Whether she agreed with her cousin or not, it didn’t matter. Maybe Cara was a romantic, but she always thought Grandmother’s choice had been one she would have made, herself—choosing love over a life of solitude and duty.
But if she argued with Norton, he wouldn’t leave. And she could make it the rest of the way on her own. In the distance, the water above began to lighten, a sign of sunshine above. She was almost home.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she instead replied. Not that she cared, but she just wanted him to shut up.
“I know I am.” Norton slowed a bit.
“You can go back now,” Cara said. Her body ached from all the swimming and the scream. She was more than ready to get out of the sea for a few years.
The next body of water she’d submerse herself in would be a bathtub. With clear water, bubbles and no eels.
And maybe that pink stuff that made her skin so smooth.
Norton shot out in front of her, twisting to the left to avoid a rocky stalagmite.
Cara swam right.
Into an inky black mess.
What—who?
Norton slowly swam over to her. “Nope, you’re not a fish. Or you’d know how to avoid a net.”
“Help me!” The more she twisted in the net, the more it tangled around her.
Norton crossed his arms. “No. You figure it out. Banshee.” And he turned and left, swimming back toward the entrance to the Merrow Kingdom.
“Hey, Norton! Help me!”
Surely he was kidding. He had to be messing with her. He had to be. He wouldn’t actually leave her in this net. This had to be some big joke, some merrow initiation or something.
Maybe her mother—or some of her other cousins—were around.
“Mommy! Mommy! Help!” She batted at the netting, but it was like quicksand—the more she twisted, the worse it became.
“Help me! I can’t get out!” The netting’s ropes caught her foot and her arm. As she tried to get out, the strings pulled and knotted against her…
And then was there tugging toward the surface?
She twisted, found herself upside down. The light was now below her feet. Bending over, she realized the light was getting closer.
Wait a second.
She paused, trying to see exactly what was happening.
Sure enough, the netting was moving.
She was moving. The netting had to be attached to a boat, because it hauled her toward the surface.
Oh no.
Was this a magical net or a mortal one? Everyone knew Avalon’s magical power—the ability to grow and replenish itself without the need to farm or fish. But if this was a mortal net, then it meant a human boat was near the island.
Humans couldn’t see Avalon. At least, they weren’t supposed to. She tugged at the ropes again, trying to scratch them with her miniscule nails to see if magic would scrape off.
She couldn’t tell.
Cara had to get out of there. She couldn’t be found, for a dozen reasons. If humans owned the net, she’d have a lot of explaining to do, what with only a fairy mouthpiece when a mortal had to have SCUBA gear to breathe underwater. Or more, how she’d gotten out here—as far as humans could tell, there wasn’t an island here, it was open water.
And if this was one of the magical nets that replenished Avalon, well, the embarrassment of being tangled in it would be as bad—if not worse—than humans catching her.
“Help! Help me!” She was really screwed now. She fought harder against the ropes, trying to pull her foot out, then her arms…
“Slow down. You’re never going to get out.”
Cara spun around.
And stared. At a man’s stomach. Not like a boy from school’s thin frame—this was a toned body. This was a man.
A beautiful man.
Immediately, her heart pounded for a whole different reason.
He hung in front of her. Upside down. So twisted, she had to look down so she could see who this was. Otherwise she’d be staring at his waist. And the area below it…
Um. No.
She went still as she glanced at his face. He wore the same kind of air-breathing mouthpiece she wore.
He was a fairy.
His dark hair floated like a brown mane, and he pulled out a sharp, green-glowing knife.
“Give me just a second…” He took the knife and started working at the strings and pulling at the netting until she was right side up with him.
Thank goodness.
She didn’t want to stare at his crotch.
The knife cut through the netting and he had half of it ripped open in a blink.
“Oh, thank you.”
If he noticed her sudden hero worship, he didn’t acknowledge it, instead remained focused on the netting.
She tried to pull her arms out, but some of the rope tangled around her. He shucked most of the netting away, then put his arm around her and pulled her free.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded.
He kicked off, and they swam toward the surface faster than she’d ever moved. His knife morphed into a fairy wand, and he cast a bright green spell just as they emerged from the water. Sure enough, a large human fishing boat was attempting to pull up the netting. Because of her rescuer’s cloaking spell, the people couldn’t see the two of them as they rose from the water.
Wings burst from his back, and the thump sent them high into the sky. The air wavered around them, like they had passed through mercury, and suddenly they were inside of Avalon’s magical cloaking spell.
Her savior spoke around his breather, but she couldn’t understand him. He hovered in the air, his wings moving behind them. He held her high over the island and looked out through the shielding. Stormy waters churned around the boat, and the human fisherman had barely gotten their net pulled in when the boat twisted around and started moving away from the island.
“That was close,” Cara said.
“The Magistrates should check their shielding,” he replied.
Cara agreed—that could have wound up being very, very bad. Avalon had some defense against being discovered, but still, that was a close call.
As they soared, exhaustion started to kick in. Soaking wet and cold, she ached and part of her wanted nothing more than her own bed.
At least, she should have wanted that.
Instead, as they flew high over the coastline, she let out a squeal behind her mask. The shimmery green spell glowed around them like being inside a big bubble.
The beautiful rocks and greens below slammed together like a mismatched child’s puzzle, and Cara could not do anything but stare—well, stare and cling to her savior. The cold, the wind, the exhaustion all forgotten because of the beauty of this sight.
“I’m flying. I’m flying!”
If she wasn’t mistaken, he sounded like he snorted.
“Some of us never get to fly like this,” Cara thought.
He circled the land, his wings thrumming against his back, the air rushing around her. They didn’t fly as high as the clouds, but they got close as he twisted and turned, giving her a view
of her home that she’d never seen before.
The small town she’d grown up in looked like a model set, and she reached for it, like she could touch it, but nope.
This was real.
She was flying.
They flew by the school, and she saw her classmates pour out of the exits, like a swarm of ants invading. She wished she had a water balloon.
She held out her arm like Superman and laughed.
This time, she heard him laugh as well.
“No water balloons,” he told her through telepathy.
“Too bad…”
He headed for a small house that sat outside the nearby town. From this angle, Cara didn’t realize it was her home until he started to swoop down. The top of her house looked awkward and boxy, and she would have never guessed it was her home. Even the trees along the property’s edges looked like bad paint blobs on the ground.
As they landed, Cara wobbled, and he grabbed her arm.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked as he tucked his air mask into a pouch on his hip.
Cara nodded and pulled hers off. “I think so.”
He released her, and Cara stumbled as she tried to take a step.
“Let me walk you inside,” he said.
She nodded, holding on to his arm. Before he moved, though, he rolled his shoulders, and his wings pulled into his body.
“Wow,” she whispered and peeked around his arm, looking for holes in his clothing. There were slits, but they looked like pleats. If she hadn’t seen the wings coming out of them, she would have only thought they were shirt decorations.
His shirt was almost completely dry. How’d he get so lucky? She still felt soaked to the bone. She touched the pleats on the back and must have made a noise, because he spoke.
“You’ve never seen a fairy?”
She walked around to face him again, her hand on his arm. Well, he was stable and not wobbly, like her legs were. “M-m-my parents are banshee…”
“Ahh.” He slipped his arm around her waist and led her to the porch. She leaned into him, and she told herself it was because she was so cold and he was so warm.
Didn’t have anything to do with how cute he was. Even if he was probably in his thirties.
When they reached the door, Cara held up her house key, but her hands shook.
“My k-key…” she muttered, shivering.
“Allow me.” He waved his hand before the door, and more green magic came out. The door unlocked and slowly opened into the little brick house she shared with her mother, father and sister.
The clock chimed—it was three in the afternoon. Each small ding punctuated their steps as they walked in.
He put his hand on her shoulder. “You need to shower, warm up.”
Cara nodded. “A bath.”
“A bath then,” he said. He escorted her to the couch, wrapped her in a quilt, and sat her down. “I’ll get you one started.”
Cara nodded, or tried to, as she shivered. In the back of her mind, she knew she’d need to wash this blanket, or at least hang it up to dry. She clung to the soft cloth and saw her hands had turned a whitish-blue.
Mom would be upset if she found her quilt so wet.
Mom…
“Maybe I should call her,” Cara mumbled. After all, this was only her second cry. Mom had made such a fuss over the first one—maybe she’d want to be here now.
“I have your bath ready,” the man said.
Cara blinked at him, realizing how weird it was to have an utter stranger—a good-looking stranger, but stranger nonetheless—in her home. “Who are you?”
A bit of a smile passed over his face, at least for a second. “Duncan. I’m with the Fairies In Distress unit.”
“I’m not a fairy,” Cara said.
“Banshees fall under our jurisdiction. And you needed help.”
He guided her down the hall to the bathroom. She stumbled to the toilet, shivering as she sat down.
“Can you manage?” he asked.
She nodded and waited until he walked out.
“Why aren’t you cold?” Cara asked him just before he closed the door.
He shrugged. “Magic.”
“Of course,” Cara said, having not thought about that. Of course he would use magic to keep himself warm in the water. Fairies could do that. It was part of that whole fairy gig.
She managed to get her clothing off and climb into the tub.
Chapter Two
Duncan Molar sat at the small table in the kitchen of the little house, addressing the paperwork for this particular rescue.
Banshee—Cara Wallace.
Trapped in a net. Freed. Returned home.
That was the essence of what he’d done.
Though he didn’t bother putting in the report that he’d flown her around for a few minutes before bringing her back. That went against the rules of being in the FID Unit. And if anyone had caught him taking a banshee for a ride, well, that might not go over well.
He’d been in the FID for just over forty years—a newbie by comparison to the others in the unit. Most had started their time in the FID right out of fairy training. Duncan had been trained as a Fairy Godfather before turning to the FID unit. He’d needed a change from granting wishes and helping people find their Happily Ever After.
The FID unit didn’t get attached to their charges. In, out, and over.
That was what he wanted. Quick and done. Granting wishes and bringing HEAs? That was very complicated.
Duncan had never gotten the nuance of it right.
He glanced down the hall to where Cara was bathing. He could hear water sloshing around and imagined she’d be getting out soon.
He needed to make sure she was okay, no injuries, and that her hypothermia was subsiding. Just in case, he’d started a pot of water and had Fairy Tea seeping in a cup, ready for her.
He added another line to the report.
Slight hypothermia. Treated.
He heard the whine of a blow dryer and took a sip of his own glass of the Fairy Tea. It wasn’t his favorite. Had a bit of an Earl Grey taste to it. He’d never been a big fan of Fairy Tea, but it certainly had good medicinal properties. He preferred coffee, but after being in the water like that, a bit of tea was always better on the metabolism.
The dryer shut off, and Duncan was about to look and see if the girl was coming when she appeared in sweats and fuzzy purple socks, and with her hair bundled in a messy bun.
“Tea? You’re the best,” she said, grabbing the cup he’d made for her and took a sip. “Oh wow, this is amazing. What is it?” she asked as she rubbed her foot against the back of her right leg.
And she did it without losing her balance.
Duncan was impressed. “Are you okay?”
She sat down the cup. “What? Oh yeah. I’m better.”
“Why are you scratching your leg?”
She chugged more of the tea. “Cut my leg. Now it’s itching like crazy.”
“Let me see,” Duncan said.
She sat down the cup and pulled up her pant leg. “Right… Where’d it go? I can feel it. But it’s like, gone.”
“Fairy Tea.” Duncan gestured to the cup and studied her face. Her fingers looked better, her eyes sparkled with amber flecks all around her brown irises, and her hair was as inky black as the water they’d been in.
She grinned.
Duncan felt a slam in his chest—she had a dimple in her left cheek.
A dimple.
That was all it took. Duncan was toast.
He’d always had a thing for dimples. Especially when the owner of said dimple had such a cute, petite charm to her.
Granted, she was just a girl, but she still was adorable. Like a cute little pixie. Not like he could do anything about it, of course. He was a
FID, after all.
And she was just a kid.
She sighed, her eyes rolling back like someone who’d just consumed ambrosia. “This Fairy Tea is awesome. Did it make my leg better?”
“It likely helped,” Duncan replied. “It has healing properties.”
She took another sip. Or rather, a chug of it. “I’ve never had it before. It’s so warm, and already I feel amazing. Why do you fairies keep all the good stuff? If we banshees could get a hold of this on a regular basis, it would make letting out those screams not nearly so taxing. Is there a shop or online catalog or something where I can order this? I think Mom would love it too. Maybe even Dad. He’s a banshee, so could he have it? I bet it would make him feel great. He gets cranky after he releases a scream. And my sister, when she lets out her screams. Though she doesn’t have to do it all that often. She’s goes through The Portal for hers, and, you know, that thing practically revitalizes her when she comes out. Or maybe that’s because she doesn’t have to swim underwater like I do, and that’s taxing, with all I have to go through and—”
“Son of a Hell Hound, stop.” Duncan held up his hand, her cute pixie charm wearing off. “I think you might be done with the Fairy Tea.”
“But…but…”
He pulled the cup away from her.
She reached for the cup. “I need that.”
“Really, no, I don’t think so. You seem to be fine now.” Duncan’s head swam at her verbal diarrhea. “I guess this is why you don’t have Fairy Tea here. It’s obviously too strong for you.”
“It is not, I’m just fine. I don’t know why you think I wouldn’t be able to handle it, it’s perfectly all right. I feel great. In fact, I feel better than I usually do, especially since I’ve been all bloated all week, because my period is coming—”
“Stop! I can’t know that!” Duncan stood, backing away from the table.
She tipped her head to the side. “You’re what, a hundred years old? Like you’ve never heard a girl talk about her period before. I mean it’s perfectly normal part of life and all and—”
“No. Stop. I don’t want to. And I’m two hundred and twelve, thank you very much.”
“Huh,” she said, looking him over. “Well, whatever, you’re old. You should have experience with that stuff. I mean, my dad doesn’t get all wiggy about it, but he lives with three girls, so maybe you just need some female perspective. Live with a gal for a while—” She reached across the table, trying to snag the tea back.
Saving Her Destiny Page 2