Black Sheep of Faery: Books 1-2

by Harley Gordon

  “That. And the riders. Or am I the only one who saw…” Belle trails off, wrapping her arms around her middle.

  “Who did you see?” Rochester asks. “I saw my former wife.”

  Jane spins to him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I thought it was my imagination. And I didn’t want to upset you.”

  She fists her hands on her hips, scowling at him. “Did you think I’d assume you’re pining for her?”

  “Of course not.”

  Jane sniffs. “Good.”

  My head wags back and forth while I watch them with unabashed interest. They never used to exchange cross words with each other in front of company.

  Jackie frowns. “So, we all saw people from our pasts. Fae who are dead.”

  “Not just Fae.”

  Everyone turns to stare at me.

  I look directly at Belle as I elaborate. “Fitz.”

  Her face folds in commiserating pain. I don’t ask who she saw; I already know who puts that expression on her face.

  “What does it mean?” Jackie asks Belle.

  “I don’t know. I thought something had changed when I had such a hard time pinpointing the location. I have a theory, but I have no clue if it’s correct.”

  “What is it?” Rochester asks.

  “Arthur.”

  “What?” At least three of us shout it, Jackie the loudest of us all.

  Belle stares at the floor. “Arthur’s return is imminent. He is the strongest of us all. He’s supposed to rebuild Camelot. It could change things. But I’ve noticed over the past year, things have changed for Faery. It started small, around the time we started preparing Camelot. It’s almost like there’s a charge in the air. I don’t know how to explain it. But powers are changing, relics are acting out, something’s going on.”

  “Why haven’t you mentioned it?” I scowl at her and her secrets. She has a bad habit of keeping things close to her chest, not trusting anyone with information, not trusting anyone but her own intelligence.

  Belle holds her hands up, warding off the questions and accusations. “I have no real answers or proof. I’ve put out calls to other Head Librarians to see if they’re noticing the same changes. But I didn’t expect it to be like this.”

  “As powerful as he is, why would his return change the Hunt?” Rochester taps his pursed lips with his pointer finger.

  “Because he was a part of it? I wasn’t the only one who saw him, right?” Jackie looks around at the rest of us.

  “Perhaps. And yes, we all saw him. Like I said, it’s a theory, not facts.” Belle rubs her face. “Look, we’re all exhausted. Let’s get a couple hours of sleep and I’ll make some calls.”

  “What about the humans wandering the moors?” Hatter speaks for the first time, being awfully quiet. Who did he see in the Hunt? Do I want to know?

  Rochester slides one of his hands into the opening of his vest. “We’ve sent our people out to search. They’re excellent trackers. And the humans are planning their own search.”

  Relief lightens Belle’s face. “So, we can focus on figuring out what to do tonight for the Hunt?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. Everyone get a little sleep. Let’s meet back in three hours.”

  Through the Horses' Whinnies

  Seated on the back terrace, I sip my tea, staring out over the foggy moors, replaying the nightmares from my nap. Fitz was trying to kill me while our children cheered him on. Jane comes and sits beside me, her own cup of tea in her hands. I smile and she grins back. Damn, it’s good to hang out with her again.

  “Our people found all the humans. They’re back home.”

  I slump with a sigh. “Oh, that’s a relief.”

  “It is. Hopefully, there won’t be any repercussions over the whole mess.”

  “I’m sorry, Jane.”

  Her smile turns into a baffled frown. “For what?”

  “For disappearing on you.”

  She shakes her head. “Oh, Bo, I understood. We both did.”

  I look back out over the moors. “Everyone understood. It doesn’t make it okay.”

  She reaches over and squeezes my arm. “Maybe not. We missed you very much, but we knew you needed to do whatever you needed to do to heal.”

  “I guess.”

  “Are you having a difficult time being here again?”

  “A bit.”

  She chuckles. “A bit, huh?”

  I let out a wry chuckle of my own. “Maybe a little more than a bit. Even before the Hunt last night, I’ve been seeing Fitz and my children everywhere I turn. They were already haunting me.”

  “I’m sorry, Bo.”

  “Maybe it’s a good thing. I thought I was over it. I thought I was moving on. Maybe this is to let me know I’m not.” I stare down at my hands. “When I saw him? I thought it meant he would return soon. I thought I’d get him back. And I was excited. Clearly, I’m not over him.”

  “There’s a difference between facing our past and moving on from it. Things with Hatter seem to be going well.”

  “They are. He’s a lot of fun and we work well together.” But he didn’t even cross my mind when I thought I had the chance to get Fitz back.

  “Are you in love with him?”

  I answer quickly, almost shouting my protest. “No. I care about him very much, but I’m not ready for love yet.”

  She raises a skeptical brow. “Are you sure? You certainly seem to be in love.”

  “I’m sure.”

  She doesn’t seem to believe me. I’m not sure I believe me.

  “Does he feel the same way?”

  I sigh, scowling as a flock of sheep appears on the hills. “I don’t know. We haven’t really had a conversation about it. We’ve just been having fun.”

  “Is that all he wants?”

  “I don’t know. I know I want to be with him. He’s the only person I’ve wanted to be with since Fitz.”

  “Relationships are hard. You should talk to him.”

  I wince at the headache the thought brings on. “I know.”

  “Rochester and I may not have had quite the drama from the book, but we had our share of difficulties.”

  I smile. “I remember. You were determined you didn’t love him because you were convinced it was only because of the story that you were drawn to one another. And he thought you only loved him because of the book.”

  “A problem I believe you’re familiar with.” She nudges me with her shoulder.

  “You figured it out a lot faster than I did, though.”

  “But you figured it out. You just have a little bit more to let go of. Once you do that, then you’ll actually be free.”

  “Maybe.” I’m not so sure. I’m not sure I even want to let go. They were my family. I always believed Fitz was my soul mate. But maybe we were just star crossed lovers from different worlds, only able to be together for a while. Why can’t I say goodbye after all this time?

  Jane lays her head on my shoulder. “You will. You just have to want to let go.”

  “And what if I don’t? Or can’t?”

  She pats my hand. “Then you’re going to remain trapped by it.”

  “Awesome.”

  “It’s that easy and that hard.”

  “Yeah.” I blow out a frustrated breath.

  “Cut yourself some slack. Losing so much the way you did — it’s a lot to get over. And time for us moves so quickly.”

  “It’s been over fifty years. You’d think it’s been enough time.” I shiver as a sharp breeze blows across the terrace.

  “I remember how you two were together. You were so in love. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people look at each other the way you two did. That kind of love doesn’t fade quickly.”

  Tears slide down my cheeks, soaking my shirt. “And now I have to fight him tonight when we go back out to the Hunt.”

  Jane squeezes me. “I’m so sorry. Rochester and Belle spent the last few hours in his study poring o
ver all his books, but haven’t found an answer. I’ve been to a Hunt before, and it was one of the easiest missions. This one’s different.”

  “I know. Arthur and Gwen weren’t that surprising considering they’re both due to rise soon. We expected them. But the faces of those who aren’t due for decades? Or ones who aren’t even Fae?” I sniff, wiping my face, trying to clear the sob from my throat, trying to focus on the actual problem at hand instead of my relationship drama.

  “There has to be an answer.”

  “If the answer is in a book, Belle will find it.”

  Jane chuckles. “That she will.”

  I sit straighter. “But if the answer isn’t in a book, perhaps we should start trying other options.”

  “Like what?”

  “We need to contact everyone and ask questions. Maybe someone has experience with this.”

  Jane drains her teacup and stands. “An excellent plan.”

  “Much better than watching those two sort through books all day. Or get pulled into doing it with them. I’ll go get Hatter. He’s good at charming info out of people. And he knows everyone.” I cast one last glance over the moors before I stand and follow Jane inside.

  “I’ll try Anne and Elinor while you go get Hatter.”

  Inside as I hurry though the house, I scroll through the contacts in my phone, trying to decide who to call first. My finger hovers over Miss Muffet’s number. We definitely need her tonight.

  A knock on their door interrupts me, and I wait while opens the door to reveal Sherlock, a pipe puffing from her mouth.

  The Snap of the Lash

  Jane steps back, giving Sherlock room to enter. “What are you doing here? Not that you’re unwelcome. Just unexpected.”

  Sherlock crosses the threshold, inspecting Jane, inspecting me, inspecting the foyer. “Belle called me last night. I got the first train I could.”

  “Really?” I can’t keep the skepticism from my voice. She rarely deigns to help us.

  “Of course. It’s a fascinating problem. One that is actually new to me.”

  “I see.”

  Belle and Rochester emerge from the study and Belle rushes over to Sherlock. “I’m so glad you’re here. Did you find anything?”

  “I need to see the spot where the Hunt began to observe what is left behind.”

  “Of course.” Belle nods like this is completely normal and no trouble at all.

  I roll my eyes, grinning at Hatter, who just appeared from somewhere. He smiles, but it’s a pale shade of his usual grin. I frown in question, but he merely shrugs in return.

  Belle gestures to the door. “If you’re ready, we can ride out there right now. Bo? Want to come along?”

  “Uh, well. Yeah, sure.” I cast a panicked glance at Hatter, not really wanting to tag along with Belle and her girlcrush. “You coming too?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m going to make some phone calls. I have a couple ideas that might help.”

  Something is definitely wrong. It’ll have to wait since Belle is yanking me out the door, almost vibrating with excitement. It’s not like Ringo just walked through the door.

  My chest tightens at the thought. I would freak out.

  I follow Sherlock and Belle to the stables, only half-listening to Belle’s excited chatter as we ride out to the spot where I saw Fitz. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention when we stop and dismount. The wind whistles around us, an echo of the storm from last night. I clutch my jacket tighter around me against the chill.

  Sherlock bends down as she inspects the ground, frowning at the prints scattered across the snow. Belle and I stay by the bikes, out of her way. Sherlock tastes a bit of the snow, then digs into the fluffy white to taste a bit of dirt. I screw up my lips in disgust. Gross.

  She stands back to her full height and gives the hoof prints a wide berth, following them all the way to the line of trees, bending down a few times to check out a random clump of dirt and leaves, a broken twig, scrutinizing things only her eyes and mind can piece together.

  Belle and I shrug at each other.

  Sherlock continues on this way for a while, sniffing, tasting, inspecting. Is she actually observing anything worthwhile or is she just acting out her character’s traits?

  She finally walks back over to us, throwing her leg over the bike without a word. Belle and I exchange a glance and follow her lead. I smother another eye roll. She is such a dick.

  We ride back to Jane’s in silence. I can see Belle swallowing a million questions. It isn’t until we’re inside and everyone else surrounds us that Sherlock finally opens her mouth.

  “I believe I know what the problem is. But I need to mull it over for a bit before I’m certain. It would be better if no one peppers me with questions.” Without waiting for a response, she marches out back to the terrace and lights her pipe.

  Belle follows with her own pipe.

  I roll my eyes so hard I worry for a moment they’re going to come loose and plop from my head. Hatter hides a grin and Jane and Rochester stare after them with gaping mouths.

  “Have you two had no experience with her?” I ask.

  Jane shakes her head. “We met once in passing. We’re actually friends with Watson.”

  “Really?” My head jerks back.

  “He doesn’t live very far away. He’s nice.”

  “Yeah. But…” He’s an idiot.

  Jane’s lips twitch and Rochester lets out a full-bodied laugh, rich and velvety.

  Hatter tsks. “You three are horrible people. The poor sod can’t help that Doyle wrote him as the dimmest bulb in the box.”

  I slap both hands over my mouth to hold in the bubbling hysteria. We are horrible people but it’s true. I never understood the relationship when I read the books. Watson was always constantly surprised every time Sherlock solved something or noticed, excuse me, observed things about him. He always doubted Sherlock, even though he proved time and again how brilliant he was.

  The one thing the real Sherlock has going for her is she has no interest in having a sidekick so idiotic.

  I shake it off and turn to Hatter. “Did your phone calls turn anything up?”

  “Oh, I actually didn’t call. I got caught up. I guess I should try now.”

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Miranda, the head of the London Library.”

  “Oh.”

  “What?”

  “She hates me.”

  Rochester snorts. “She hates everyone.” Ever since her father was put in prison and Caliban was killed, she’s been a different person.

  “She loves me.” A self-satisfied smirk turns up the edges of Hatter’s mouth.

  I snort, shaking my head. “Of course she does.”

  “Don’t be cross. Not everyone can be as charming as I am.” Hatter adjust his bow-tie.

  “I’m charming.”

  Hatter bursts into maniacal laughter. “Of course you are, darling. As charming as a cactus.”

  “Hey!” I shove him.

  He holds his hands up in surrender, still chuckling. “I find you charming, but you have a rather…well…angry way about you when people don’t do what you want.”

  I fake offense, putting a hand to my heart. “How dare you. I am a delight.”

  He pulls me into his arms and plants a searing kiss against my lips, smoothing away the pout. “Yes, you are.”

  I push him away with a playful grin. “Don’t placate me. Make your damn call. I guess the rest of us can wait for Sherlock to finally give us some answers.”

  “Maybe I can get some from Miranda and we can toss Sherlock out on her ear.”

  I grin at the thought. “Hurry up then. I get the honors if you do.”

  “Deal.”

  Jane and Rochester are giving each other the need alone time eyes, Jane blushing again at whatever Rochester is sending her, so I escape into the library. Rochester’s library has grown immensely since I was last here, and it was impressive before. It’s
almost like he’s trying to begin his own official Library.

  I run my fingers across the spines, wondering where all these characters are now. Most of them are in Camelot. A lot of them are in prison. Most of the rest are in the FTA. There aren’t a lot of options for Fae like there used to be. Or maybe Fae don’t want the options. Most of us gravitate to our own kind.

  Sometimes I think I should have done the same. I imagine what it would have been like, meeting Hatter without all the baggage. What it would have been like to not have that kind of devastation following me around everywhere I went.

  But never having known Fitz, never holding my children, my grandchildren would be worse. I could never regret them as much as it hurt. As it still hurts.

  I just have to figure out a way to really say goodbye.

  I have no idea how to go about doing that.

  Hatter walks in. “Phone call was a bust. She had no good info although she’s going to look into it.”

  “It was a long shot. I guess now we wait for Sherlock to decide when she’s ready to tell us what she discovered.”

  “However will we fill the time?” He leers at me.

  I catch my bottom lip with my teeth. “I can think of a few ideas.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “One or two.” Part of me wants to question him. He’s been a bit strange today. The other part of me just wants to lose myself in him for a few minutes. Remind myself what I have.

  He pushes me against the shelves, his mouth traveling up my neck. I tilt my head back to give him better access and slide my hands up his shirt, over the planes of his lean chest. His fingers skip up my back and bury themselves in my hair.

  He tastes of desperation, he kisses me like he wants to memorize me, like he’s saying goodbye. My heart skitters and I clutch at him harder, nuzzling into him as close as I can. I’m afraid to pull away from him, afraid of the unspoken words between us, afraid of the ending I see coming.

  His tea and lavender scent fills my nose, leaving me lightheaded. His kisses steal each one of my breaths, making me tremble. It’s been weeks since we reconnected, and he still has such an effect on me. I can’t get enough of him.

  With a stinging nip to my bottom lip, he pushes away, putting distance between us, both of us fighting to refill our lungs with air.