Garden of Dreams and Desires

by Kristen Painter

  Harlow nodded. “It’s a long story, but basically this witch broke into the house and stole leaves off the lightning tree, which caused Ava Mae’s spirit to possess her after she left me.”

  Olivia scurried back to Harlow’s side. “There’s only a little bit of Ava Mae left in there. The tree has warped her, turned her into a monster of its own doing.” She shook her head and pointed at Giselle. “You’re in trouble, witch. You have no idea what you’ve done.”

  Giselle stalked toward the old woman and Harlow. “I’m not the one in trouble.” She pointed at the pair. “You are if you don’t get me out of this goddess-forsaken place. Get me home now or I will call up the power of the tree and destroy both of you.”

  A thin man in glasses stepped out of the air, the housekeeper at his side. “I don’t think so, Giselle.”

  Olivia clapped her hands. “I haven’t had this many visitors in ages.”

  “Mom,” Harlow said. “This is not exactly a social event.”

  “I don’t know about that.” The man in glasses stared at Giselle. “For one of us, it might qualify as a going-away party.”

  The arrival of Fenton and Lally took some of the pressure off Harlow. She shot him an appreciative look. “I hope that means what I think it means. Thanks for showing up, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome.” He answered her without taking his eyes off Giselle. “I came through by mirror to check on you when you didn’t return in a timely manner and Lally informed me of what had happened and where you’d gone.”

  “I knew you’d get it.” Harlow smiled at Lally. She was carrying a cloth shopping bag.

  Lally smiled back. “My mama didn’t raise no fool.”

  “No she did not.” Harlow motioned with her free hand for Fenton to continue. “So you grabbed her and came here.”

  “Something like that. I made a few arrangements first, which is why we weren’t along immediately.”

  Harlow jabbed her blade in Giselle’s direction. “Let’s deal with her then.”

  Fenton held up a finger. “First things first. Which would be Ava Mae.”

  Harlow nodded. “Apparently she’s still inside Giselle but pretty weak.”

  “She should be,” Lally said. “She’s about as far away from the tree right now as a person can get.” She tipped her chin at Giselle. “You still hear her voice in your head?”

  Giselle nodded, looking very much like she wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. “She’s faint, but still there.” She crossed her arms. “Although she seems to be perking up, so if one of you doesn’t take me back home in the next few minutes, things are going to get ugly.”

  “Shut up, you stupid cow.” Olivia ignored Giselle’s shocked look to clasp her hands and address Fenton. “Please don’t hurt Ava Mae. I know some of what’s in the witch is the lightning tree, but some of what’s in there is still my child. I felt it. I felt her.”

  “We planned for that.” Fenton smiled at Olivia before he spoke to Giselle. “Sit on the ground, witch, and don’t move.”

  Giselle’s lip curled at his suggestion. “I think not. This place couldn’t be filthier. And besides, what’s to stop me from running?” She narrowed her eyes. “Or turning Ava Mae on you?”

  Fenton laughed, a sound Harlow wasn’t that familiar with. “Ava Mae is most likely still too weak, but go ahead and run if you feel that’s in your best interests.” He stretched out his arms. “You might want to consider just how vast this part of the fae plane is. And then there’s the fact that you’re human. You still need to eat and drink. Do you know what fae plants are poisonous? Which fae streams hold restoring waters and which ones hold those that diminish? How many creatures there are in the distant forests that would consider you a succulent morsel?” The smile left his face as his expression became stony. He pointed to the ground. “Sit. Or I will let Harlow assist you.”

  Giselle sat.

  “Good witch. Now stay there and don’t move.” He punctuated the sentence by placing his hand on the bolt stick hanging from his belt. Then he nodded at Lally. “All right, go ahead.”

  Lally pulled an oddly shaped package from the shopping bag and unwrapped it from what looked like a length of fae leather. On closer inspection, it was fae leather. A pair of Augustine’s new pants, actually. And they’d been concealing a thick, black branch that Harlow knew instantly.

  Giselle’s lids flickered as the whites of her eyes disappeared. She moaned, hands outstretched toward the branch. “Give me the lightning tree. I need it. I’m dying.”

  Lally held the branch out and nodded. “Come get it, Ava Mae. Leave that witch and sink yourself into this tree. I’ll carry you home and you can be whole again.”

  Giselle began to tremble. Her eyes rolled back in her head for a moment. She cried out, the wind whipping up to carry her voice away. “Get out of me, Ava Mae. Get. Out.” She lurched to her feet. One eye had returned to its normal state, but one had remained solid black. Whatever was happening inside her wasn’t pretty.

  She stumbled toward the branch, muttering and moaning and talking under her breath like a crazy person. “Get to the tree. Leave me alone! I need the tree. I need to be home…” Giselle and Ava Mae were fighting for control, but Ava Mae was too weak to take it fully. She reached a hand toward the branch, fingers inches from touching it while half of her seemed to be holding back.

  Lally jerked the branch away as Fenton shot forward and zapped Giselle with the bolt stick.

  With a guttural howl, she shuddered and fell to the ground. Lally crouched over her, holding the branch above her like a divining rod. A few seconds later, Lally’s sharp intake of breath announced something had happened.

  She stood up, holding the branch away from her body. “She’s in there.”

  “Who’s in there?” Harlow asked. “Ava Mae?”

  “Mm-hmm. She slid right in after Mr. Welch zapped Giselle. The stress was too much. She needed a safe place.” She looked at Fenton. “You were right, but we gotta act fast.”

  “Yes.” Fenton dug into the shopping bag and pulled out a lighter and a bottle of butane. “Ready when you are.”

  “What are you doing?” Olivia looked on the verge of tears. “You’re going to kill her.”

  “No, Livie,” Lally said. “We’re going to set her free. You’ll see.” She dropped the branch onto the ground.

  Fenton sprayed butane all over it and clicked the lighter. The branch went up in a whoosh of flame. The wood popped and whistled, but burned hot and bright. Within seconds, it was ash. Lally went back into the shopping bag, this time pulling out a little cloth bag. She emptied the bag onto the ground, adding what looked like a teaspoon of more ashes.

  “Are those Ava Mae’s?” Harlow asked.

  Lally nodded. “What I was able to scrape up from around the tree.” She kept her eyes on the ground, watching the pile as expectantly as Fenton.

  “Is something supposed to be happening?” Olivia asked.

  “I thought so,” Lally replied. “Looks like I was wrong.”

  A soft breeze drifted past. Giselle moaned. They turned to look at her.

  She rolled her shoulders like she was stiff. The wind picked up for a moment, then went still again. “That hurt. What the hell did you zap me for?” She blinked and her gaze shifted to a spot behind them. Her eyes rounded in fear as her jaw went south. She scrambled backward on her hands and feet. “Goddess, help me.”

  They looked at the pile of ash, but it was gone. In its place stood the somewhat transparent mirror image of Harlow.

  Harlow gasped, but before she could do anything, Olivia rushed forward and pulled the figure into her arms. “Ava Mae.”

  “Mama,” Ava Mae cooed.

  The two seemed to blur into one another, their individual lines hard to distinguish from the others. Harlow shook her head. “Mom, I don’t think you should do that.”

  Ava Mae looked up from Olivia’s embrace. “Mama.”

  Was that all she could say? There were
no scary sharp teeth, no eyes like black pits. Harlow wasn’t entirely convinced, though.

  Lally reached out and put her hand on Ava Mae’s arm. Her fingers passed through the woman’s form and Harlow realized that’s why Olivia had blended into Ava Mae. Neither one had a solid form, although Harlow knew her mother could manage that if she wanted. Lally nodded. “That’s Ava Mae all right. No tree at all.” She smiled at Fenton. “It worked.”

  He looked pleased. “Yes, it did. And all your idea, Eulalie.” He smoothed the collar of his jacket. “You would have made a very fine lieutenant, you know that?”

  She laughed. “Minding that tree is all the work I need.”

  Harlow walked past them to join her mother. She studied Ava Mae, trying to see her with new, unbiased eyes. “You’re really my sister? No games?”

  Ava Mae shook her head and smiled wistfully. “Sister.”

  Olivia glanced at Ava Mae. “It’s her, Harlow, I promise. She feels… new to me, innocent again. I think she’s reverted to being a baby in some ways.” Olivia wrung her hands. “I’m sure she’s sorry for all the trouble she caused you and Augustine, aren’t you, Ava Mae?”

  Ava Mae nodded. Tears welled in her eyes.

  “There, there,” Olivia soothed her. “No tears now, it’s okay. Everything’s right as rain again, cher.”

  Harlow froze. “No, it’s not.” She turned around. “Fenton. Augustine.” She pulled out her mirror. “We need to go now.” There would be plenty of time to figure out this new Ava Mae later.

  Giselle shook her head. “You can’t leave me here. I’m starting not to feel so good.”

  Harlow rolled her eyes. “That’s the least of my worries.”

  Fenton raised his hand. “Go, Harlow. I’ll secure the witch—”

  “Secure me? What does that mean? Like hell.” Giselle scrambled to her feet, her malaise apparently forgotten.

  Fenton zapped her with the bolt stick again. She fell to the ground in a heap. “Like I was about to say before I was so rudely interrupted, I’ll secure the witch until we have a better idea what to do with her. I’m sure Lally will assist me. Then I’ll bring her home.” He smiled. “I understand there’s a rum cake to finish making.”

  Harlow grinned. She had a deep admiration for Fenton’s no-nonsense side as well as his way with Lally. “That would be great, if that’s all right with Lally.”

  Lally slanted her eyes at him, the coyest smile playing on her lips. “Sure, that’d be fine with me.”

  “It’s settled then,” Harlow said.

  Fenton adjusted his glasses. “Be sure to go straight to the Pelcrum, Harlow. The others will be waiting for you there.” He bent and hoisted Giselle up under her arms. “Eulalie, if you would be so kind as to take her feet.”

  Lally bent to help, lifting Giselle with one ankle in each hand. “Like a sack of potatoes,” she muttered.

  With a wave to her mother and sister, Harlow slipped through the mirror and back to the Pelcrum, her mind solely occupied with Augustine.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Augustine’s insides were a throbbing mass of pain. His leathers had held thanks to the fae craftsmanship, but he was sure his skin was a road map of welts, bruises and iron burns. He teetered on the edge of consciousness, aware that slipping over the side into the nothing would probably buy him a reprieve. Perhaps it was for the best. The abyss looked so comfortable…

  Sutter waved an ammonia tab under Augustine’s nose, pulling him off the ledge of darkness and bringing him back into the cold light of day. Augustine muttered a curse.

  Sutter hoisted the iron bar again.

  Pellimento hadn’t moved an inch the whole time he was being beaten, but at last, she lifted her hand. “That’s enough, Sutter. Let me speak to him again.” She twisted to look over her shoulder. “Nguyen, get that set up back there.”

  “Yes, Senator,” the thug answered, and busied himself with something Augustine didn’t have the energy to care about.

  He exhaled slowly, trying to control his movement to lessen the pain.

  Sutter leaned down. “Still think I hit like a girl?”

  Augustine hung his head, relief flooding him at the chance to rest. “No. At least not a fae girl. They hit way harder.”

  Sutter dropped the bar, grabbed Augustine’s chin and jerked his head up. His other hand was pulled back, fingers curled into a fist.

  “Sutter.” Pellimento’s voice cut through the air like a steel blade. “I said not the face. I also said that was enough. Leave us for now.” She pointed at the two men holding Augustine upright. “And you two, put him back in the chair.”

  With a wet snarl that would have put a rabid dog to shame, Sutter released Augustine and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The two holding Augustine dropped him into the banquet hall chair. Blood rushed back into his shoulders, causing the pins and needles from lack of circulation to sting deeper, the pain a reminder of just how long he’d been unable to move.

  She tipped her head at the two thugs and raised her brows. “Go.”

  They left, closing the door much more quietly. Only the senator and the lower-level merc remained in the room, but he stood behind her, near the camera on its tripod.

  She stared at Augustine for a moment without speaking, then shifted to cross her opposite leg over the other and spoke. “Why do you antagonize Sutter? You know it’s only going to make him hit you harder.”

  He lifted his head to make eye contact. He thought about telling her the truth, that being fae meant he could take a beating no human could ever endure, and that Sutter’s temper meant goading him could cause the man to make a mistake, but Augustine knew neither of those things would win him any points with her. Instead, he kept his mouth shut and dropped his head again, just to see how she dealt with being ignored.

  He felt her gaze on him awhile longer as the silence stretched between them. When he finally lifted his head again, she looked back at Nguyen, gave him a subtle nod, then returned her attention to Augustine. “Did you kill my son simply to strike at me or did you have a greater plan? Were you going to hold him hostage until I met some sort of demands? Was the death accidental? I’m curious, as the autopsy has turned up no clues about how you murdered him.”

  “I did not kill your son.” He exhaled slowly, but nothing lessened the constant knife-sharp ache of his numerous broken ribs. They wouldn’t begin to heal in a meaningful way until the iron was no longer in contact with his skin, something he had begun to realize might not ever happen.

  It was very possible he could die in this room. The finality of that filled him with a recklessness that was both calming and freeing.

  Pellimento sighed like she was bored. Or perhaps just tired of his refusal to capitulate to her request for a confession. “Then why was your address in his pocket?”

  “Because someone put it there, most likely to make it seem that I was involved.” The realization of what he’d just said came to him as he spoke the words. “Someone.” Of course. Giselle.

  “Is that also why I got an anonymous tip telling me you were responsible for his disappearance?”

  “Yes.” Augustine narrowed his gaze on her. “No one reaches a position of power without accumulating some enemies. At the very least, those who are jealous of your power. In my case, it’s a woman by the name of Giselle Vincent, the witch who killed your son. You of all people must understand what it’s like to have enemies.”

  She laughed bitterly. “Ah yes, that’s good, show me how we’re alike. Perhaps that will earn you my sympathy, hmm?” Her twisted smile straightened into a hard, unforgiving line. “We are nothing alike, you and I.”

  “My mother was half human. Is,” he corrected himself.

  The senator’s eyes darkened with pain and anger. “Mentioning your mother won’t help your case, either. All that serves to do is remind me that her son is still alive.” She raised a single finger. “But that is something I have the power to change.”

&nb
sp; He snorted and shook his head, the reality of his impending death loosening his tongue. “If you think she cares for a second what happens to me, you’re wrong. She’s probably one of your biggest supporters. Not that anyone outside the fae world knows what you really intend to accomplish with all those shell corporations and private interests.”

  A spark lit in Pellimento’s gaze. He’d piqued her curiosity but with what? Knowing about her shell corporations? “Is that so? Your mother, who is half fae, isn’t your greatest fan?”

  His mother. He almost laughed. His least favorite subject. But since he’d finally found a topic that got Pellimento off the matter of her dead son, he decided to answer. “No, she’s not. She hates my fae side. Put me on the streets when I was thirteen because she couldn’t deal with how fae I am. After that, I’d certainly have a reason to hate humans, but I don’t. When I took the job of Guardian, I knew it meant protecting all the citizens of this city, not just the fae. Not just the varcolai. All the citizens. Humans included.”

  “And yet you continually blame the witches for my son’s death.”

  Back to the topic he’d been trying to steer her away from. “Because they’re guilty. Giselle Vincent killed her own father.” He shook his head. “If you think I killed your son, who do you think is responsible for the other victims found floating in the witches’ pond?”

  She smiled. “I would imagine you killed them as well.”

  “What’s my motivation for all these killings?”

  “They were all human.” She shrugged. “My people have worked it out.” She planted her elbow on the arm of the chair and pointed lazily to the camera over her shoulder. “Like I said, we’ve written your confession for you. You simply have to read it and all this will be over.”

  “Except it won’t be over for me.”

  “No, obviously not. I can’t let a killer free just because he confessed.” She laughed like that was the craziest idea she’d ever heard. “You’ll be executed. Publicly, of course. After the atrocities you’ve committed, I think the people deserve that, don’t you?”