“What now?”
“Nothing, it’s just that I didn’t expect it to be so...complicated.”
“Seraphim said you’d know what to do.” She’d actually said that the Knight would know what to do, and Sam had already admitted that he was no knight.
Damn.
“Ok. Fine. No big deal. How hard can this be anyway? ‘A lock of Fairy’s hair’ should be simple enough to find. We’ll just go to the club tonight and get some from Seraphim. I’m not sure why I didn’t think of it last night, though admittedly she was in a bit of a hurry.”
Sam had been shaking his head with increasing vigor as I spoke and I finally fell silent as I caught sight of the look of horror on his face.
“Will that not work?”
“Gawd, no.”
“Why not?” my nose wrinkled, “Is this another ambiguous ‘rule’ designed to make my life more complicated?”
“Not really. It’s just that the spell calls for the hair of a Fairy.”
“Yeah?” I said, my voice dripping derision. “Fairy Godmother = Fairy.”
He smothered a grin. “No. Fairy Godmother = a witch whose been given dominion over an individual or family line.”
I cursed, “So Seraphim’s a witch?”
“Afraid so.”
“That would explain a lot.” I muttered and he chuckled.
“It just so happens that I do know where we can go to get the first ingredient.” I gasped, pleased as punch and he held up a hand before I could shower him with thanks. “You may want to hold off on the praise for the time being.”
Suspicious.
“O-k.” I said slowly, “But in the meantime, what about the rest of it?”
Sam’s eyes darkened and he turned away. “Seraphim laid things out real neat and pretty for you. Most likely we’ll be able to buy the magic mirror from the Goblin’s market, and with the right spell we can summon the Genie forth by way of that same mirror.”
“And the last two?”
Sam’s mouth was twisted with bitterness when he finally turned back to look at me.
“The final breath of an honest man and a Dragon’s heart? If you haven’t found your Knight in shining armor by then, we’ll just play the rest of it by ear.”
It wasn’t a great plan, but it was a start and I found myself relaxing fully for the first time since...since before I dropped my umbrella. To be honest I was almost eager to get started. There were, however, a few more points we needed to cover if we were going to be spending any extended length of time together.
“You know about my curse don’t you?” there was no point in beating around the bush; I got the feeling that Sam was a pretty straightforward guy and to be anything but would be an insult.
“Of course I know.” He said, confirming my suspicions. “In fact I may know more about your ‘curse’ than you do. Seraphim was pretty thorough.”
I wish she could have been half as forthcoming when it had to do with dealing with me. My lips tightened in annoyance, not just at Seraphim but at Sam as well, and I crossed my legs and waved an imperious hand.
“Then by all means. Enlighten me.”
He sighed happily at my obvious upset and shook his head, “But where to begin?”
“How about why she cursed me in the first place?” I, not quite, snapped.
His face fell into lines of mock solemnity, “Well that’s the easy part. I think I mentioned before that a Fairy Godmother, is in reality, only a witch.” for the first time he settled enough to stop crouching on the ottoman long enough to sit on it. I saw with some amusement that he aped my current posture by crossing one leg over the other. He seemed pleased with the results, though not impressed.
“The Fairy Godmother Society, or the FGS, was established to give witches something to do other than cause general havoc and mayhem. The other beings in our realm were growing tired of their interference and if they hadn’t changed their ways then they would have been exterminated.”
He spoke about the destruction of an entire race with such casual disregard that it was almost chilling. I tried to remind myself that the events he spoke of must have taken place a long, long time ago, which would explain his antipathy but I couldn’t seem to make that line of thinking ring true.
“The Fairies were the ones who came up with the idea. The witches who couldn’t seem to find redemption on their own were placed under a geas, or magical binding. For every one person they’d harmed, they must help three times as many. Between the hours of 12 and 12 they would be allowed beyond the veil into this world to work their magic on a single man or woman. Once the time was up, their magic would be stripped away and they’d be forced back home to await release once more. Twixt and Twain and back again.”
“You have a bunch of evil witches doing community service?”
His smile stretched from ear to ear and made his eyes sparkle. “Yes.”
It would have been funny if I hadn’t been a byproduct of all of this. “I thought you said that they were supposed to help people? Seraphim’s little gift has made my life hell. Evidenced by the fact that we’re even having this conversation.”
He shrugged, “Like I said, that’s the easy part. Seraphim didn’t mean to curse you at all. She was trying to do standard Fairy magic to help you find true love once you came of age and it sort of…”
“Backfired all to shit?”
“In a nutshell.”
Exasperated, a blew a curl out of my eyes and collapsed back into my sofa, grabbing blindly for my favorite pillow so I could crush it against my abdomen in a weak attempt at self-comfort. I was thinking; or pouting really. I was grateful that Sam was keeping his mouth shut and giving me time to indulge in one while I pretended at the other.
“All right,” I said finally. “If my curse is just Fairy magic gone wrong, why don’t we just get a Fairy to fix it?”
You know the face people make when they see a guy get struck in the cajones? It’s usually followed by an, “Ooh,” as they cringe and turn their heads away. Well, that was the reaction my question generated from Sam, though he tried his best to play it off.
“You keep coming up with such great ideas.”
“I sense a ‘but’.”
“But,” he said obligingly, “all the Fairies are dead. Don’t bring them up around others of my kind. We don’t take the reminder well.”
“Dead?” I squeaked, “As in dead dead?”
He nodded, “Unfortunately. It’s why they formed the FGS in the first place. The Witches were the only ones who had the power, and lifespan, to take care of their charges once they no longer could.”
“But,” This news broke something small and fragile in me that I hadn’t even known was there. I suppose that when I thought of magic, Fairies had always been a part of the fantasy. They were essential to any child’s make-believe world and here I was finding out that they were extinct. It was like being told that there was a Santa Clause and that he was every bit as awesome as you’d always thought he would be…but that he had terminal cancer and would be gone by the end of the month.
My inner child just got raped by reality.
“How did they die?”
“The Black Widows.”
“Spiders?” This alarmed me. I was prepared to deal with a lot, but magical spiders were an entirely different story.
“No. Women.”
“Oh.” He was talking about dem hoes. I could handle me some hoes.
“You know the evil stepmothers in your human stories? They’re called Black Widows in my world. They’re beautiful, smart, charming, and they will literally suck a man’s spine out through his mouth.”
“Oh.” my voice was less cocky this time around. “Why did they kill the Fairies?”
“Like the witches, the Fairies were constantly interfering with their schemes. They grew tired of it and mixed a potion that when released, worked like a plague.”
“Wiping out all the fairies.” I finished for him quietly and he nodded, eyes sad.
&n
bsp; “The Widows were banished from our realm, but by then the damage had been done.” his lips pulled back from his teeth and for an instant his gaze turned feral and hard, “They would have been dead had it been up to me, but no one listens to warriors during times of war. No, that’s more a diplomat’s game.”
Flustered, I cleared my throat. Relieved when the sound forced him back to the here and now. “At least one fairy must have survived the plague though.” He blinked, slowly and without expression, and the squirming worm of suspicion began to work its way through my gut. “How else,” my voice began to rise, “were you planning on getting the first ingredient?”
Nervous now at my obvious upset, his eyes darted first one way and then the other. He squirmed in his seat before nerves had him poising on the ottoman like a Superhero preparing for launch.
I stared at him, glaring holes into the side of his head, before with a visible effort, he met my eyes and shrugged helplessly.
“I’ll do all the digging.”
“No.”
“It’ll take half an hour, tops.”
I shuddered at the thought of grave robbing. Fairy grave robbing. God. “No!”
“I hate to break this to you my lovely, little Siren,” his voice deepened on a growl and startled, I looked at him to see a hardness to his features that hadn’t been there before. “But you don’t exactly have much of a choice.”
He had a point.
On a more personal note:
Did he just call me ‘lovely’?
Speaking of which, none of that overabundance of information addressed my original concern.
“I asked you about my curse because—”
“I know why you asked.” his voice was still hard. Face still dangerous. But he continued without further prompting from me. “Your curse won’t affect me, little Siren. You’re safe as far as I’m concerned.” his tone held a trace of self-mockery, but I neither knew what prompted it nor how to address it. So instead I hesitated before giving a decisive little nod and getting to my feet.
“Good.”
If I’d been less intrigued by the danger his change in demeanor promised I would have stayed and asked him what made him immune. That question would have led to others however, and I needed a break from him. Because dangerous Sam intrigued me about as much as awkward Sam charmed me. I’d never thought I’d meet an honest bad boy, but the combination was devastating.
“Where are you going?” he asked, as I began to make my way out of the living room, straightening my robe nervously as I went.
“To get ready.” I answered, “I’d like to squeeze in a shower before we start digging up Fairies.”
“Good idea.” I may have imagined the genuine relief I heard in his voice, but considering his personality, and the length of time I’d gone without a bath, I couldn’t be completely sure.
* * * *
It didn’t take long to finish my shower. After I’d climbed out from beneath the showerhead, skin tingling pleasantly still from the effects of the hot water, I wandered over to sink and stood staring at the steam shrouded mirror above it for a long time. I’d avoided the sight of my own face for so long that when I finally got up the nerve to wipe the glass clean, I found myself looking into the eyes of a stranger.
Large eyes, long lashes, and a small, round sort of mouth. An oval face framed by curly brown hair, cut longer on one side than on the other in an asymmetrical style I’d thought dashing at the time. Don’t get me wrong, it still looked pretty damn cute, I just wasn’t as into my looks as I was a few months ago when the curse was still a secret shame of mine that while scary at times, was till manageable for the most part.
It had made dating in high school and college tricky at best and I’d had my fair share of close calls growing up. In fact, my last date had been right around the time things were starting to take a turn for the worst. When Kendrick had started to kiss me and didn’t look as if he wanted to stop I’d found myself crying and pushing at his shoulders while I whimpered,
“Please don’t make me. I don’t want to. Please, please, don’t.”
I hadn’t screamed or tried to fight him off. I’d been too scared that those who attempted to help me might be of the same frame of mind. Besides, I’d felt like his loss of control had been my fault. Like things never would have gotten so out of hand if my magic hadn’t…
I watched, face expressionless, as my gray eyes darkened. Taking a deep, shaky, breath I wiped my hands over my face and tried to find calm. Rachel thought I’d stopped going to work around the time that man had gotten hit but that wasn’t entirely true. I’d stopped working long before that, surviving instead off of the allowance my mother sent me each month. I hadn’t been proud of my weakness, which was why I tried to force myself to at least keep attending classes every day. But when I really think about it, I suppose that my choice to become a shut-in hadn’t exactly been a choice.
My mother used to tell me, “You can’t trust anyone, ever.”
I guess she was right after all.
I smiled at my reflection, just to prove that I could, before turning away in disgust. I’d been thinking about putting on some make-up, but Sam was here on an official basis. He wasn’t some blind date Rachel had set up for me. Besides, he looked like the kind of guy who fell for the more glamorous types.
Like Seraphim maybe.
Seraphim the sex goddess with a temper, and Sam the occasionally bashful warrior; the mental pairing brought me up short.
Then I burst out laughing.
Who would kill whom first was anyone’s guess.
Still chuckling, I wandered into my bedroom and noticed the blinking light on my cell phone. When I checked it, I saw that I had four missed calls. Three were from Rachel. The last was from my mother. She’d left a voicemail.
“Darling, you’re being silly. I don’t like you cooped up in that stuffy old apartment all the time.”
My apartment was brand spanking new and quite well ventilated, thank you Mother. And when was not wanting to be responsible for another death the definition of ‘being silly’?
“Now I’ve spoken with your little friend.” Rachel. “And I have to admit that I’m not at all pleased with her.” her voice lowered and I heard the deep rumble of male voices in the background. “I thought you knew better than to befriend an oath breaker?” the voices in the background grew louder and Isabelle Greyson grew brisk. “I have to go now dear, but I expect you to call me back as soon as you get this. We have a lot to discuss, you and I.”
I took an almost savage delight in deleting the message.
Call her back?
Hah!
I had graves to desecrate.
Chapter Four
“The tooth fairy teaches children that they can sell body parts for money.”
- David Richerby
“What is this?”
“It’s a Harley.”
I looked at him from the corner of my eye before turning my silent censure back onto his bike.
“I was implying that you should take me to your big boy mode of transportation instead.”
He nodded, and grew thoughtful. “You know,” he said conversationally, “I suddenly find you much less endearing than I did about a half hour ago.”
My lips twitched, “Imagine that.”
“Come on.” He grabbed my arm and steered me to the side of the motorcycle, where he then slammed a black helmet over my carefully styled hair.
So I’d forgone the make-up.
Didn’t mean I was completely without sense.
Not that it mattered much now.
“You have no respect for art.” I lamented, even more heartbroken when he ignored my original heartbreak over my hair. Instead of flattering my nonsense with a response he picked me up, and settled me onto the back of his bike with absolutely no assistance from yours truly.
Then, without another word, and without donning a helmet of his own, he got on in front of me and suddenly, we were off. I’m not
saying I was a heavyweight or anything, but I could stand to lose a couple of pounds. With all these supernatural’s moving me around like I was their favorite piece in Monopoly, it was almost enough to make a girl feel underweight.
When Seraphim did it, I was a little freaked out.
When Sam did it, I was a lot turned on.
I never got to appreciate a guy like this. Usually I was trying to avoid them or figure out what motivated them into showing interest in me in the first place. Since Sam was immune to my charms, it gave me carte blanche to appreciate all of his. So for the first time in 24 years, I found myself fantasizing about all the things a guy with his type of muscle mass could do to me in the bedroom.
Or in the kitchen.
Or on a motorcycle.
I blushed and buried my face against the middle of his back, my arms tightening around his waist as we weaved through midmorning traffic.
Strapping young man indeed.
* * * *
The cemetery on Madison had never seemed all that special to me. I’d certainly never imagined that Fairies had been buried there. It was pretty and everything, but there was nothing that particularly stood out about it as the final resting place of magical beings.
It was just a cemetery.
Like any other it was just a stretch of land, uninterrupted by much except for a few trees here and there and a rolling hill or two. There weren’t any monuments of weeping angels or family crypts that had stood for decades or anything romantic like that. Mostly it was just a healthy mix of headstones and artificial flowers to mark the place where a loved one was busy resting.
The main thing in its favor was that it was off of the main road. You had to drive a ways before you could get to it and once you arrived, the apartment buildings and office spaces that were a way of city life were obscured by a mile or so’s worth of woods.
The quiet I was fond of was shattered as soon as Sam and I rolled up. I convinced him to at least part the bike against the caretaker’s shed instead of leaving it on top of a grave which I took as a personal victory. He hadn’t understood why I’d wanted him to park in the parking lot, and any arguments I’d made concerning ‘disturbing the dead’ were pushed aside under his belief that the bike needed to stay close by.
The Dragon King and I Page 6