Black Sheep of Faery: Books 1-2

by Harley Gordon

  I don’t want this. I don’t want to return to this mad world where I have to be brutal and violent and merciless. A world where I have to strap weapons to my body instead of an apron, where I hold a gun or sword instead of drumsticks or a whisk. A world of magic and chaos and blurred lines between heroes and villains.

  And the only two people in the world who could bring me back into the fold have come for me together. I rip off my clothes and toss them into a corner, dumping my bag onto the floor. Maybe when I wake up, I’ll be back in my flat, in my bed, tonight nothing more than a nightmare.

  Even with my mind churning and spinning, the call of the black is swift to overtake me. The memories I’ve fought off rush back in with my mind vulnerable in sleep. My dead family tortures me, parading through my mind, blaming me for not saving them, for not keeping them safe. They age before my eyes like they’re on fast forward, their faces greying and folding into wrinkles.

  I’m thrust back to their funerals, feeling myself mourn, watching the grief in my eyes grow with each loved one I put into the ground.

  Trapped in the bleak world of my past, I try to scream, but no sound leaves my mouth. I try to run, but my legs are made of concrete and refuse to move. I can’t escape, I can’t break free, I can’t breathe.

  Pan flies in, his terrifying grin taking up half his face. He grabs each one of my children, my grandchildren, my great-grandchildren, disappearing with them into the fog rolling across the ocean.

  Strong hands dig into my shoulders, holding me down beneath the surf. My nose and mouth fills with the briny sea. A voice sounds from a long way off, calling to me. The voice is familiar and beloved and I want more than anything to find it, to obey its call. But the grief and pain are too strong, holding me captive.

  It’s every memory and hurt I’ve kept hidden for so long, now the size of a monster, devouring me, ripping me to shreds, swallowing me in darkness.

  Vines wrap around me, twining across my chest, holding my legs together. My pulse flutters with panic and I fight against the binds. Something warm tickles against my ear and I hear the voice again.

  And Dreamed She Heard Them Bleating

  This time, it reaches through the murkiness and I fight through the nightmare, following the words sent as a lifeline. My eyes pry open, the glare of bright lights burning my corneas.

  When my vision returns, I see Belle looming over me, compassion and worry quivering through her. The nightmare fades away, leaving me light-headed and confused.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I think so. Just a dream. Sorry to bother you.” My voice is raspy, my throat sore.

  Belle tuts. “I’ll make you some tea. I know it’s so very British of me, but I don’t care.”

  I realize I’m bound to the bed, unable to move once she flees from the room. I struggle, but Hatter shushes me. “It’s just me.”

  Hatter.

  He wound himself around me at some point, but now he releases me, sliding from the bed. I clutch the sheet to my chest, realizing I’m only in my underwear and undershirt. And he’s only in a very tight pair of black boxers.

  My cheeks flame and I avert my eyes.

  Hatter chuckles. “Nothing we haven’t seen before, pet.”

  I toss him a throw blanket from the bottom of the bed, breathing easier once he’s wrapped in it. “Why did you feel it necessary to climb into bed with me over a little nightmare?”

  His brows rise as he tries to hide the worry on his face. “Little? You were thrashing and screaming, love. There’s nothing little about what just happened. Even my powers couldn’t reach past your cries.”

  I clutch the sheet tighter, the fabric fisting in my hands. “I was screaming?” I decide not to give him a hard time about trying to hypnotize me. I made him promise long ago never to use his gift of persuasion on me.

  “For Fitz, mostly. Yes.” His expression is unreadable, even his eyes are hooded and closed from me.

  I clear my sore throat, staring down at the bed. “I’m sorry for waking you. I’m fine now.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Very well.”

  My head jerks up to meet his eyes. “I’m surprised you’re willing to leave it alone.”

  He leans against the wall, crossing his arms and ankles, somehow keeping the blanket covering him. “Perhaps I’ve changed. It has been almost fifty years.”

  Needing us to go back to our usual banter, I snort. “I haven’t seen the slightest hint so far.”

  He’s having none of it. “You are much the same as well. Still angry and bitter and blaming Faery for all of it.”

  “Who else should I blame?” I ask with a glare.

  He straightens and comes to sit on the edge of the bed. “Why must anyone be to blame? This life we were granted isn’t all tea and crumpets, but there are wonderful parts to it. You got to experience a great love, you got to bring children into the world, you got to see them grow up and find out who they would become.”

  I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. “I got to watch them all grow old and die.”

  He shakes his head and places a hand on my knee. “You look at it the wrong way. It was a gift. Would you go back and change anything? Would you not spend part of your life with Fitz and bring those wonderful beings into the world? You do them a disservice by living your life like you regret them.”

  I jerk away from him, stung. “I don’t live my life like I regret them. I live my life to be certain I don’t go through that again. You have no idea what it’s like. You haven’t lost anyone like that.”

  “I lost you.” His words ring with sincerity, pouring salt in the open wounds from the dream.

  I want him to hurt as much as I do. He can’t know how much being around him sends me off-balance. “You never had me. Not really. We had a fun few months, and I cared for you very much, but I was never yours. I’ve always been his. I’ll always be his.”

  In this rare moment of seriousness, his eyes flash with what looks like pain and his mouth compresses in a thin line. “It’s been fifty years, pet. You have no idea what else I’ve lost.”

  Guilt stabs me. For a brief moment I see myself, mired in self-pity. Fitz would be disgusted with me. My daughter would be even more. Hatter must be. “Sorry.” Such a useless word, no matter how much I mean it.

  Belle bustles in with a tray clattering with a tea service and the moment is broken. But Hatter’s smile tell me I’m forgiven.

  “Since we’re all awake, we may as well get started.”

  It’s hard to hide the smile at Belle’s logical tone when I catch Hatter’s gleaming eye.

  “I guess I should put on some pants.”

  Belle nods with utter seriousness. “Yes.”

  And When She Woke

  Once I’m armed in my ripped leggings and soft purple sweater, I stomp downstairs into Belle’s shop. She’s made more tea and brewed coffee. Hatter hasn’t finished primping, so she and I are alone for the moment.

  For the first time in thirty years.

  And I have no idea what to say.

  She’s buried beneath a pile of books and papers, a blanket scarf draped over her shoulders. A small purple cart rolls over stacked with even more books, extra cups tottering on top of the pile.

  I decide to focus on Pan. “So, what’s the plan? What do you know about Pan’s movements?”

  “Cinderella sent me a list of all the places he’s already hit and a list of all he might.”

  “You went to Cindy for help?” My voice is high-pitched with surprise. Belle and Cindy don’t get along. Mainly because Cinderella is the worst.

  “She’s heavily involved in children’s charities across Europe and she hates Pan.”

  I let out a disgruntled noise.

  Belle nods. “I know she gets on your nerves, but she does good work.”

  Hatter bounds into the room. “You don’t like Cindy? Why not? I have alwa
ys found her delightful.”

  My nose wrinkles. “I don’t trust her. She’s slippery as hell, and I’ve always been sure she’s involved in dangerous dealings, but I could never find proof.”

  He frowns, confused, as he pours himself a tea. “I thought you were the one who helped her get the restraining order on her prince for stalking?”

  I shrug. “I did. Doesn’t mean she didn’t get on my nerves.”

  “Belle, you don’t like her either?”

  I answer for her. “Well, of course not. She’s a rival princess.”

  Belle’s face stiffens and I curse myself. Too low a blow, too harsh a reminder, a horrible joke. Cinderella may have had to deal with some terrifying stalking, which is never acceptable, but it was nothing compared to what Belle went through. She’d shared a lot with me over a few pints one night many ages ago. If the Beast wasn’t locked up forever, I’d have killed him myself. I hate seeing him treated so well in the reboots and movies.

  Belle brushes my comment off and hands me a book. “I thought you might want to brush up on the story.”

  My lips twist in disgust at the copy of Peter Pan burning my hands. “Really? How will this help?”

  “It might not, but I figured when you left us, you stopped reading as well.”

  I toss the book back at her, not caring if I damage the horrible tome. “I read. Just purely modern crap that doesn’t have a chance in hell of being around in seventy-five years.”

  She huffs a laugh. “No one is more grateful than I that Bella and Edward won’t be here with us in the future.”

  “I dunno. I rather enjoyed the story. But I’m damn sure looking forward to meeting the Harry Potter characters.”

  Her eyes glaze over. “And Narnia and Middle Earth.”

  Once upon a time, I loved to read.

  I turn the conversation back to the matter at hand. “Have we contacted Wendy Darling? Is she safe? Does she know anything?”

  Belle worries her bottom lip with her teeth, sorting through the papers on her lap. “We’ve tried, but no one has seen her. She lives a lot like you with Pan still out there. She checks in with me pretty regularly, but she isn’t due to contact me for another month. I will keep trying, but we shouldn’t count on her help. Or response.”

  I sigh, accepting the cup of tea Hatter hands out to me as he takes a seat beside me on the sofa. “So, he could have her, or she could be safe.”

  “We’ll find out when we find him. I’ve sent a message she should get, but it may make her burrow more.” She scowls down at the folder in her hands. “Cinderella’s list is massive. We don’t have enough Fae here in Paris to cover them all.”

  “Let me look at them.”

  She hands me the list and I pull my phone out from under my leg. Hatter leans in close, watching me work, Belle buries herself back in her own papers.

  My pulse speeds up as I notice something, but instead of explaining, I ask Belle for a map of the city, wanting to make sure I’m right. I spread it across the table, using a black marker to circle the locations I suspect.

  Belle hisses. “That’s a hundred-year-old hand painted map.”

  “Too bad. You wanted my help, this is how I work. You don’t like it, get someone else. I need a map of London too. If you don’t want me to ruin another priceless artifact, get a more current one from a petrol station.”

  “I don’t have those laying around. And we’re in Paris. Maps of London aren’t in huge supply here.”

  Hatter reaches into his suit pocket. “I have one.”

  I take it from him and spread it on top of the Paris map, circling the locations he stole children from there. I move both maps to the floor, kicking books out of my way, enjoying Belle’s gasps and moans. Serves her right for spying on me all these years.

  I fold and refold and unfold and adjust until I see it. I knew it. The bastard can’t help himself.

  Pointing at the maps, I say. “He spelled out his bloody name. He’s taunting us.”

  Belle squints at it, horror stiffening her face. “He’s already hit all these places. We can’t set a trap because he’s already done what he came to do.”

  “No, look.” I point to a spot between the A and the N. “There’s one left. We can get him tonight.”

  She Found it a Joke

  My head buzzes with what sounds like a swarm of bees, making my head swim.

  It’s happening. This is a stronger lead than anything I found before. And it only took me a couple hours, which bothers me. It was too easy. Nothing with Pan has ever been easy.

  Hatter and Belle murmur in the background about weapons and how they want to split everyone up. I think about Pan. I remember his white, pasty skin and dirt brown hair and mesmerizing silver eyes. I remember him laughing in the window of my great-grandson’s room, flying away when I stormed in brandishing a pistol and sword.

  We’ll all be better off if he’s dead for a hundred years instead of imprisoned. Wendy can finally come out of hiding. Maybe we can find out what the hell happened to Tink and Tiger Lily. They were barely born on Earth before they disappeared and no one knows what happened to them, if they’re on Pan’s side or if he killed them. The Lost Boys have remained by Pan’s side and fled along with him after that fateful night at my home. I’m still not sure how exactly I scared him off that night. I’m still not convinced it was me.

  He came after my great-grandson because I foiled one of his plans, saving a Fae girl from the orphanage from him. Taking my family was supposed to be payback.

  I might not be ready to return to the fold, I might be pissed they forced me back into it, but there’s a growing part of me that can’t wait to beat Pan into a bloody unconscious pulp. I’ve been brought back to Faery before for him, my leave of absence interrupted so I could deal with him. Hatter had been out of the country at the time so we hadn’t reconnected.

  Too bad we’re reconnecting now.

  Belle tosses her phone on the table. “Jackie and Red are on the way. They’re the only available agents I have close enough to get here in time.”

  I huff a startled laugh. “It’ll be good to see Jackie again. She was a good partner.” And friend. She was irreplaceable in a fight.

  “She’s excited to see you too.”

  Surprise raises my brows.

  “Well, deep down she is.”

  “I assumed she’d be in Basque Country, helping prepare for Arthur’s return.” Jackie the Giant Killer has origins in the Arthur legends. A fact she was always so proud of. Her dream has always been to become one of his knights upon his return.

  “She has plans to, but problems here keep popping up.” Belle leaves the blame and reproach unspoken. I ignore it.

  “If she keeps waiting for things to settle down, she’ll never leave.” I hurl unspoken words like weapons too.

  She ignores me.

  “How’s Red doing? I’ve heard nothing about her in a while.”

  Belle sighs. “Well, you’ve been a little out of the loop.”

  I scowl at her reminder. The reminder I’m back in it. “Yes. I have.”

  “She’s doing fine. She’s working for the National Forest Inventory.”

  “She must love that.”

  Belle nods, lighting her pipe, the aroma of smoky vanilla wrapping around us. “She does. She can keep an eye on the pack that way as well.”

  Red came over as an actual werewolf alpha. Shifters from other stories and rhymes had flocked to her, and she became their leader.

  Belle sniffs, fingering her pipe. “Cinderella is also sending a few people to aid us.”

  I rack my brain for other characters and tales and rhymes who might be in Paris. “What about the Musketeers? They’ve never left France.” Those women’s swords would be most welcome against Pan and his Lost Boys.

  Belle shakes her head. “They have now. They’re in Basque Country. Another reason Jackie hasn’t gone. She didn’t want to leave me shorthanded.”

  More passive aggression for
me to ignore. “How long before everyone ends up there? The way things are going, maybe it’s the best plan.” Not that I’ll go. I have no interest in removing myself from the world and hiding away in an actual fairyland.

  “Once Arthur rises, many will flock there. But if we leave the human world at the mercy of villains, we won’t be safe there either. There has to be peace between us.”

  Hatter stands behind my chair, his scent surrounding me, making me hungry. And not just for food. I stumble to my feet, moving away from him, using the excuse to grab my bag.

  “I brought a few weapons too. I don’t have much of an arsenal anymore.”

  Belle waves a careless hand. “Save your things. Mine has grown quite impressive in your absence.”

  “And where do you keep it hidden? Under all these piles of books? Speaking of, where are all your little friends? Are they hiding?” Belle’s able to bring inanimate objects into life. She didn’t realize her power when she first came to life, and everything she touched was effected for the first few days before she learned to control it. They used to help out around the Library. My favorite had been the lamp called Glimmer. She was very flirtatious, always trying to draw me into a dance. She was also one of the few Belle didn’t change back.

  “I have something to show you.”

  Hatter chuckles, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Apparently he already knows what I’m about to see. I try not to be nervous, but I still put a hand to my stomach to calm the butterflies.

  Belle leads us to the back of her shop, to what I assumed was a closet door. But when she opens it, a circular staircase leads below.

  “You want me to see your creepy ass basement?”

  Hatter laughs and Belle releases a grudging chuckle. “Just come on.”

  She doesn’t turn on any lights, making us find our way by touch. Hatter keeps his hand on my waist so he doesn’t run into me and I keep mine on Belle’s. His hand burns through my clothes, like we’re skin to skin. Why can’t I shake this off? Why does he still get to me? Almost fifty years should be more than enough to get him out of my system, though almost seventy years isn’t enough for me to move on from my husband. I’m still desperately in love with him.