Black Sheep of Faery: Books 1-2

by Harley Gordon

  If we all die now, we’ll be reborn together again. I take comfort in that. I won’t have to miss Hatter or anyone else. With my free hand, I grab Belle’s. “I’m sorry for leaving.”

  She squeezes back at my whispered words. “I understand why you did. And I’m sorry for pulling you back into this.”

  “I’d have been pissed if you hadn’t.”

  A growl echoes all around us, interrupting our goodbyes.

  Red.

  Pan, Alice, and the Lost Children stiffen, looking around for the threat. The growl sounds again, this time from a different spot. It’s like we’re surrounded.

  My gun raises back up. If we’re going out, Alice and Pan are coming along with us.

  A shadow flies overhead, slamming into Pan. A woman clad in black, daggers in each hand, stands over his fallen body, one boot on his chest, keeping him from flying away.

  Wendy.

  Chaos reigns as Red and my lion tear into the surrounding circle. Belle, Hook, Jackie, and I stand frozen for a moment as the tides turn.

  Some part of my subconscious still works because so does my lion. Hook is the first one to spring into action, the rest of us only a second behind.

  The shock of Wendy’s appearance still vibrates through me as I pistol whip a Lost Girl, shoving her aside as I try to get to Alice. Wendy is welcome to deal with Pan, she’s got more of a right than I do. He killed her brothers.

  But Alice is mine.

  This time my dance with death is performed solo as I cut and shoot, raising blood along flesh. The death song plays in my head and I’m lost to its beat, helpless to do anything but follow along to the steps drummed into me so long ago.

  The waltz brings me partners — first Belle, then Jackie, then Hook. We don’t fit together as well as Hatter and I do, but we get the job done.

  Water joins in as we stomp in the edge of the shallows. I’m cut off from my allies, surrounded by Pan’s children. I miss a step, and they’re on me, driving me further into the sea, the water lapping at my thighs. I try to call my lion to me, but it doesn’t get there fast enough. I’m drowning, choking on the sea, held under by eight hands.

  Just like my nightmare.

  And this time, there’s no Hatter to wake me up.

  And Wiped Her Eye

  So, I’ll just have to do it myself.

  I dig into the sand on the bottom on the ocean and bring fistfuls up and grind it into faces. A few hands disappear from me, giving me the opening I need. My wings burst from my back, and I shoot past the Lost Boys into the air, choking and vomiting up water from my lungs, curled up on myself hovering above the crashing waves.

  My lion breaks free of the fight, racing over in obedience of my last call. I swoop down and we attack together. My wings keep me out of everyone’s reach, I flit and fly like an annoying bee with one hell of a sting. The surf turns red with the amount of blood spilled.

  Wendy and Pan are still locked in battle in the air, swords glinting pink and gold from the rising sun. My blood still burns for Alice, but there’s no sign of her in the many battles below. I send the lion back to Red’s side; they snarl and bite and slash with their claws, sending Lost Children screaming into the woods.

  Wendy falls, spiraling gracefully to the ground, slamming hard into the sand before I can get to her. Pan tries to flee, but I push myself high, grabbing him by the foot and yanking him off-course with every bit of my remaining strength.

  It isn’t enough.

  He rights himself before he hits the ground, shooting back at me like a bullet. I barely get out of his way in time, and my sword meets only air.

  Pan and I eye each other, swords at the ready. “Give it up, Peter. You’ve lost.”

  He scowls down at the Lost Boys and Girls either fleeing or being tied up by Belle and the others. At the small trees and rocks circling and guarding his minions. Belle has been busy animating objects. Looks like the rocks have smashed into several faces.

  Pan’s expression clears, leaving him triumphant again. “Oh, my dear Bo. I haven’t lost anything.”

  “I will not let you leave here. You’re going to prison and you can rot there. Or I can stab you through the heart and you can take your chances with still being popular in a hundred years.”

  “You have a choice to make, Bo. You can try to take me down, which won’t be easy. You have no allies to help you fight me up here in the sky. Or you can save your lover.”

  My stomach sinks. “I have no lover.”

  “Forgive me. I was under the impression you and Hatter were back together.”

  What is Faery’s obsession with our relationship? Neither of us are even main characters. “Your mermaids killed him.”

  He shakes his head and smiles. “No, my mermaids brought him to me. But if you don’t hurry, Alice will finish the job herself. And your friend Hook will lose another lover. She’s a bloodthirsty little thing. It’s quite terrifying. Useful, but terrifying.”

  I refuse to allow the hope to rise. “Liar.”

  He shrugs. “Maybe. Are you really willing to take that chance?”

  I glance down, eyes searching for Alice again. For a sign of Ariel or Hatter. Which is exactly what Pan wanted. His booted foot connects with my left temple, and my wings sink back into my skin with a searing burn. My vision greys and the sea rushes up to embrace me, carrying me away in its arms.

  Pan’s maniacal laugh is the last thing I’ll hear in this life.

  And Over the Hillocks Went Rambling

  The current is strong, towing me along, probably towards those bloodthirsty mermaids. I can’t find the surface, no idea which way is up. The waves lull me, taking away my fear, taking away my fight.

  Sharp needles of pain stab my head and then sweet, blessed air brushes across my face, past my lips, and into my lungs. A hook and a hand tows me to shore. Shivering, I cough up half the sea. Again. I really do not care for being drowned. My legs refuse to obey my commands, so Hook half carries me the rest of the way while I continue to reacquaint my lungs with oxygen.

  I peer up into the sky, but Pan is nowhere.

  Bollocks.

  Hook almost drops me back to the ground when Ariel emerges from one of the treehouses, Jackie behind him, Alice held at sword point. Hook has the decency to right me before he races towards his lover. Ariel’s face shines with joy as he runs to meet Hook in the middle. They crash together, laughing, weeping, kissing.

  I’m frozen in place, everything plodding into slow-motion. Swallowing hard, I tear my gaze from my reunited friends and my eyes meet the next one to emerge from the treehouse. Hatter. He stares at me across the sands and field of flowers, his clothes torn, filthy, and rumpled. He’s alive. He’s really alive. Pan was telling the truth. Hatter’s face holds not the slightest trace of his trademark humor and whimsy. He’s utterly ravaged.

  My heart constricts and twists in my chest, making it hard to draw air into the lungs that still so desperately need it. Relief makes me lightheaded and my limbs limp.

  Hatter is alive.

  And then I’m sprinting. Sprinting across sand, trampling wildflowers, leaping over fallen weapons, pushing past my friends guarding our new prisoners, darting around the still embracing Hook and Ariel.

  Hatter doesn’t move, but his eyes widen and he steadies himself as I throw myself at him, burying my face in his chest, winding my arms around his neck. He turns to stone for a split second before his hands slide up my back, pulling me even closer, releasing a hard breath I didn’t realize he was holding. I don’t know if he’s trembling, or if it’s me, or both of us.

  Hatter pulls back a little to rest his forehead against mine. “You came for me.”

  “Well, we actually came for Ariel. And Pan. We didn’t know you were alive.”

  He pulls back completely, still keeping his hands on me, on my hips, to stare down at me. “You thought I perished in the sea?”

  I nod, unable to look away or stop touching him to reassure myself he’s alive.
<
br />   He summons up the bare scraps of his humor, grinning at me. “So, you do care.”

  My hands fall away from him, and I step back, blushing hard. “We should get back to the others and get off this cursed island.”

  “Of course.” His humor vanishes, replaced with pure fury and betrayal. “I can’t believe my book mates were involved in this.”

  “I’m sorry, Hatter.”

  He shrugs. “Nothing to be sorry for, love. They made their choices. We all did. I’m starting to think you were right. Embracing your story doesn’t get you anywhere.”

  I open my mouth to tell him I was wrong, but nothing comes out.

  We turn to head back to everyone, side by side. My hand itches to grab his and twine our fingers together, but I resist the urge. It’s been a perfectly disgusting twenty-four hours. I’m not ready to make any big decisions right now.

  Hatter is enveloped into the group, everyone thrilled to see him alive. I stand at the edge, watching, a smile on my face. This is my family. I can either keep living alone, keeping myself isolated, or I can return to the people who will always find a way back to me.

  It’s my choice. It always has been. And it’s long past time for me to make it.

  Heart pounding, I step into the group hug.

  And Tried What She Could, as a Shepherdess Should

  It’s been almost a week since I last saw Hatter. Life is back to normal—- I’m back in my shop, back with my band. The only change is I have Fae in my life again. Belle and Jackie came to my shop this morning for breakfast and coffee. Hatter wanted to take Alice and the rest of Pan’s cohorts to the FTA’s prison himself. Red’s been on some secret mission for Belle, so I haven’t seen her either.

  I check my phone, hoping to see a message from him, but there’s nothing. Maybe he remained in London. He has a business there, a life.

  Sighing, I lock the door after my last customer finally leaves, fingering the slip of paper Belle handed me, refusing to answer questions, asking me to check it out.

  Guess I have nothing better to do. Maybe she’s trying to test my resolve to return to the FTA. Only this time as a freelance agent. I’m not ready to leave my life here.

  Besides, we all need covers.

  Giving the store one last glance to make sure everything’s in order, I grab my new leather jacket and hail a taxi outside. Three times, I almost ask the driver to turn around and take me back, but I decide to see this through. Maybe it’s about Pan. There’s been no sign of him, but Hook and Ariel are on his tail, sailing the seas, searching for him and the remaining Lost Children. Wendy went with them.

  They’ll find him.

  I hope.

  Pan’s a slippery bastard, but he’ll surface eventually. And we’ll be ready for him when he does.

  The place the taxi stops at is dark, a sign above the door painted with a purple top hat. I snort. Hatter. I guess he is back and Belle must have been keeping tabs on him like she does to everyone. Or he told her. But why would he tell her and not me?

  Should I even be here? Where is here?

  Before I can chicken out and hop back inside the taxi, the driver pulls away, leaving me alone on the street. I stare at the door and the darkness blacking the windows, only a small flickering light from somewhere inside letting me know anyone’s even home.

  I suck in a bracing breath and push open the door. The chords of a piano whisper through the night from the back of the building. I follow the familiar notes of Unforgiven by Metallica. I can barely make anything out in the dark room. I’m not even sure what sort of place this is — a home, a business, just some empty warehouse. I push through another door and skid to a halt.

  He’s seated in the middle of a large room at a gleaming black piano, a few scattered candles on the top of it and across the stage behind him, lighting everything up, a glass of amber liquid resting between the candles on the piano.

  His eyes are closed as his fingers flit across the keys, as his body moves to the music. He’s almost as rumpled as the last time I saw him, his shirt wrinkled and unbuttoned at the cuffs and halfway down his chest, his hair falling across his head in a mess of curls. His facial hair is even thicker across his jaw and above his lip. A cigarette dangles from his mouth, ash floating to his lap. The bass notes he hits stabs me right in the chest, his fingers screaming out fury and pain. I forgot how good he is.

  I take a couple steps closer, hovering at the edge of the piano. He finishes the song before he opens his eyes and looks at me, darkness swirling in their depths.

  I give him a tentative smile. “You really should lock your doors.”

  He slams down the cover over the keys, rising from the bench, putting distance between us. “Guess I should.” He grinds his cigarette out on the floor beneath his periwinkle wingtips.

  I wrap my jacket tighter around me, off-balance. I shouldn’t have come. “So, what is this place?”

  He waves a careless hand, staring at the shiny black and white tiled floor. “A new business venture. It’s unimportant. How’d you find me?”

  “Belle.” I catch my bottom lip between my teeth.

  “Of course.” He rubs the back of his neck. “What are you doing here, Bo?”

  I jump at his use of my name. He uses it so rarely. I don’t like it. “I…well, I didn’t know you were here actually. Belle just gave me this address. How long have you been back?”

  “Three days.”

  “Why didn’t…I mean…I haven’t seen you.” Ugh. I pinch the bridge of my nose.

  His face turns to stone. “I thought you were done with Faery? You made yourself perfectly clear the entire time we were chasing Pan. It was a one and done.”

  “Well, yeah, but…” I trail off, words failing me.

  He nods sharply, and gestures to the door. “Don’t feel the need to stay on my account. I have no interest in long, drawn out goodbyes. I’ll try to stay out of your life.”

  My forehead wrinkles and my eyes burn. “What is wrong with you?”

  “What do you mean? I’m trying to give you what you want, Bo. A life free of Faery and of me. What do you want from me?” He almost roars the last question.

  “I—I—.”

  “What do you want, Bo?” His voice is quieter this time, husky, the words breaking in the middle.

  My heart breaks along with it. “Stop calling me Bo.” That wasn’t what I meant to say.

  He blinks. “Am I supposed to call you Nina?”

  “No.”

  “Then, what?” There are questions, need, a storm shining through the stone of his face. He takes a couple steps closer, like he’s on the prowl. “What do you want me to call you?”

  My mouth opens, but the words still refuse to come. And he wants words. He wants the words I’ve never been able to say to him.

  I want to tell him that he was right. Faery is where I belong. I want to tell him there’s been no one since him. I want to tell him when I thought he was dead, a part of me died as well. I want to tell him not to blame himself for Alice and the others. I want to say anything to take the sting of the betrayal from him.

  But none of it will push past my trembling lips.

  I’m a coward.

  Tense silence falls around us. It crackles in the air, raising the hair on my arms and the back of my neck. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to handle Hatter when he’s like this. I never have. I can’t tease this Hatter, argue with him.

  But I can’t leave him like this either.

  I reach for his glass and knock half of the remaining liquid back and then lift the lid, my hands sliding across the ivory keys. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve touched a piano this fine. It’s seductive, beautiful. I tease out a random melody before slipping into Marigold by Nirvana and sliding onto the bench.

  Music makes me braver. Music can say the things I can’t. It can show the things I don’t know how to.

  One the third line, I sing the lyrics, looking right at him as I do, letting Kurt
’s words do the talking. My singing voice rasps with emotion and lack of use and unshed tears.

  Something flickers in his dark gaze, like a little piece of him is returning to life.

  The music sinks into me, remaking me, healing me as I switch seamlessly into Something in the Way. I almost forget where I am, I almost forget Hatter. But his eyes burn into me, even as he remains silent.

  I put all of me into my playing, desperately wanting to reach him without words, to show him the things I don’t know how to say. I sway and move to the beat, lost in each note.

  Hatter returns to his seat on the bench, joining in on the chorus, playing the harmony. Our fingers go to battle together as we bang out our pain, as we bang out our desires. He takes us into Come as You Are. Then, I take us into Wherever I May Roam.

  Somehow, it turns into a duel, where we try to outdo each other, each song getting harder and harder as we try to trip the other up. Soon, we’re grinning. And then, we’re laughing, our fingers tripping, tangling up together. We stare at each other as we sober.

  And then, as one, we both go straight into I’ve Got a Feeling by The Beatles. The song that was playing on the rooftop when we met. We don’t look away from each other as we play through the song.

  A tidal wave of memories sweeps me away, longing growing with each note, with each brush of our hands. The music echoes back at us in the empty room, surrounding us, wrapping us in a spell.

  I don’t know which of us hits the discordant note, but it breaks whatever is holding us back, and I’m in his arms and his lips are on mine, or mine are on his. With the cigarette smoke mixed in with his usual scent, he smells like lavender and burnt sugar, like crème brûlée. He tastes like expensive scotch. He’s delicious.

  He yanks me closer until I’m in his lap, leaning me against the piano, my spine hitting the keys. I clutch the back of his neck and wrap my legs around his waist. He’s ravenous and possessive, almost angry in his kiss. I whimper and dig my fingers into his shoulders. He nips across my cheek, down my jaw and neck making me shiver. He growls at the moan escaping me and brings his lips back to mine, hungry with the edge of desperation. Like he’s suffocating and I’m his last breath of air. Like he’s scared I’ll push him away again, and he has to get as much of me as he can before I stop him.