Black Sheep of Faery: Books 1-2

by Harley Gordon

Yet Unwearied by the Chase

  My spirits are lighter as we ride out to meet the Hunt. I stare after Hatter and the others as they follow my animals to search for Pan and the boy. Miss Muffet is going along with them. So much for her experience with Hunts.

  Jackie and I ride out with the Rochesters, the air already turning colder, the moon bright. Fog swirls around the tires and the horses’ hooves cast an eerie glow for us to ride through, like we’re wading through clouds.

  Thunder crashes and lightening crackles, heralding the riders of the storm. The horses buck and whinny, but I send a burst of power to calm them.

  The horn blares and the hounds bray. We move faster, meeting the Hunt with a crash in the middle.

  I’m prepared to see Fitz this time, reminding myself it isn’t him. He isn’t coming back. This is nothing but a spiteful trick. I slice into him with my sword, ignoring the horror clenching my stomach.

  He evaporates and then reforms, his sword clashing against mine. I release my lion, and he rushes from my arm, slamming Fitz from his saddle. I focus on the next rider, and my sword falls, leaving me weaponless against my son.

  My wings burst from my back and I rise into the air, barely missing the swipe of his sword through my torso, letting the motorcycle slam into the ground. What the hell is happening?

  I can’t fight my son.

  Swooping down towards Jackie, I slide onto the horse behind her. “I need to switch. My son just appeared.”

  “Thank Grim. I can’t fight Arthur anymore. It’s killing me.” She hauls on the reins, dropping back, handing me a sword. How many did she bring?

  I spring back into the air, diving down onto Arthur and putting him into a headlock, I fling him from his saddle and land hard on my feet. I can’t believe I put King Arthur into a headlock.

  As insane as my life is, that’s not something I ever thought I’d do. Hope he doesn’t remember it once he returns. Awkward.

  Even without Hatter guarding my back, the thrill of the battle courses through me. Arthur slices down at me with his sword, and I barely raise mine in time to meet it. My boots slip on the slick snow and ice, making it difficult to remain upright beneath the force of his swing. Allowing one of my feet to slide out from under me, I slam down to one knee, my sword still crossed with Arthur’s.

  With a scream, I push with everything I have, flicking my blade to the side, sending his flying into the snow. I swing in an arc, barely stopping in time before my weapon cuts through my daughter’s neck.

  She rolls away from me, barely disturbing the snow. I stumble back, my body trembling. What the hell is going on? Fitz and my son join her, surrounding me. Tears slide down my face as I scream out in rage and pain, forced to defend myself against my family.

  More riders fall into the snow, tossed from their unicorns by the others. Jackie tosses Gwen into the drifts at my feet, leaping from her horse and landing at my side.

  Jane soon joins us as Rochester continues unseating the riders, sending out instructions, circling on his motorcycle as my lion keeps the hounds at bay. The unicorns don’t wait around for their riders to remount. Lost in the magic of the hunt, they continue on over the moors, disappearing into the fog and snow.

  Jackie, Jane, and I stand back to back, sparks from our swords clash and join the flurries swirling around us. Jane’s powers of growing things are severely hindered by the frigid air and the slumbering earth. She’s able to call to the roots of trees, and they reach out and wrap around the hooves of the unicorns, tossing their riders from their backs.

  We shift and slash, yelling warnings over the howl of the whipping wind and crashing thunder. My arms tremble with the effort of continuing this never ending battle. My gloves are soaked and stiff, making it hard to keep a grip on the sword. My feet are blocks of ice, as cold and numb as the dread in my heart. The faces change, flickering between my loved ones and those who haunt Jane and Jackie.

  And our demons are winning.

  They don’t flag or fade or tire like we do. They’re single-minded in their determination to continue the Hunt, each blow unwavering and strong. Our circle grows smaller as they surround us, making us retreat into each other, until we’re so close my elbow sinks into Jackie’s side, Jane’s foot stomps on mine. I can’t see Rochester in the chaos, and my lion is busy with the hounds.

  There’s no one to ride to the rescue. We just have to hold on until Belle, Hatter, and Sherlock are able to retrieve the relic from those horrid boys.

  I steel myself, hardening to ice as I stare at the faces of my family. No. This isn’t my family. My family would never take up arms against me. It’s a trick. One I’m falling for as I hold back, staying on the defense, letting the guise they take on weaken me.

  But no more.

  With a shouted warning to the others, I leap into the air, my wings snapping out and catching me on a gust of wind. I plunge through the frozen flakes, landing on the other side of the riders. Their focus split, the three of us are better able to keep them contained.

  I slice and slash at my dead husband and children, spinning and ducking away from their thrusts. My breath comes hard and fast, ragged puffs of air bursting from me. Fae are stronger and more have more endurance than humans, but we aren’t supermen.

  Well, Jackie is, but that’s her power. She’s strong and fast and almost bulletproof.

  The rest of us aren’t quite so awesome.

  What is taking Belle and Hatter so long? We can’t keep this up much longer.

  As if in response to my thoughts, the light from the moon disappears. I jerk my gaze up to the sky, my mouth falling open at the Jolly Roger sailing through air.

  I guess Hook and Ariel have learned a new trick.

  The Red Dragon Rose Unwombed

  Hook’s crew clambers down ropes hanging from the sides of the ship, dropping into our midst, giving the rest of us a breather from the fight as the riders turn to the new threat.

  Hook finds me in the madness and we clasp arms. “Are we in time to save the day?”

  I somehow find it in me to laugh. “Very heroic rescue. If you’ve got this, I’m going to go see what’s taking Belle so long.”

  He nods. “Be careful. Bring Pan to me alive. I owe him a hello.”

  “Be warned. You’re going to see ghosts of those you love or even hate. Don’t let it knock you off your game.”

  “I know. You already told me.” Still, his face stiffens as he catches sight of the rider coming our way. It’s his dead lover. The one Pan murdered.

  Jackie swoops in and fights him back, calling over her shoulder. “I’m staying, but take Jane with you.”

  “I’m coming too.” Wendy flies overhead.

  I nod, calling on my power, searching for the animals I sent to lead Belle and Hatter to the boys. The trail flares purple in my mind, and I fight through the battle to follow, Jane at my side, Wendy above us.

  Casting one last glance behind me at the raging battle, I push myself faster, harder — worry driving me forward, giving me the extra strength to keep from collapsing into the snow and staying there forever.

  I don’t pay attention to where we are in the park, too focused on keeping my feet moving and from dumping me into the drifts.

  The purple lights blink out, the trail ending. I fall to my knees at the wood line, my heart shattering all over again. I’m back home. Again.

  Jane rests her hand on my shoulder. “Oh, Bo. Are they here?”

  I cough to clear my closed throat. “Of course. This is where Pan tried to steal my great-grandson. Pan still holds a grudge.”

  Wendy floats down to join us. “This is your home?”

  “Once upon a time it was.”

  “I’m going to fly through the trees and check things out.”

  “No, I will. I know this place better.” I release my wings, trying to brace myself for what’s coming.

  How much more of this can I handle?

  Jane squeezes my arm in support. Numbness spreads through me as I
rise into the air, sticking to the trees and shadows as I fly towards the house.

  I check the upstairs windows first, peering through the filthy glass, but there’s no movement. I float down along the chimney to the ground, peeking around the edge through the front picture window. My heart thuds once and then skips a beat.

  Belle and Sherlock are tied to each other in the middle of the living room floor, gloves covering Belle’s hands so she can’t use her power. Not that there’s much in there for her to bring to life and use as a weapon. Belle has a hard time using her gift as a weapon anyway. She has a connection with the things she gives life to — she doesn’t want them hurt. I struggle with the same thing when it comes to my animals.

  Hatter and Muffet aren’t moving, crumpled on the floor in the corner by the fireplace, playing cards spilled around them. I can’t tell if they’re still breathing. Hatter must have tried to use his persuasion and got knocked out for his trouble.

  There’s no sign of Pan or The Boy. I duck beneath the window, hugging the side of the house to the kitchen window. Light flickers from inside, and I pray to Grim the reflecting light will keep anyone from spotting me. It only takes a quick peek around the edge to see what I need to see.

  The two villains are in my kitchen, chatting over a bloody cuppa. I’ll kill them both with my bare hands. Then I’ll be waiting for them in a hundred years when they return to kill them again.

  How dare they?

  I fly back to Wendy and Jane, trembling with suppressed rage. If I don’t suppress it, I’ll slam in there with no backup and no plan.

  Jane clutches my shoulders as I fight for breath. “Bo, what is it?”

  “Hatter is unconscious or dead. Sherlock and Belle are tied up. And those two brats are in there drinking tea.”

  “Pan is mine.” Wendy’s voice is dark and cold.

  “Get in line.”

  Jane is the only one able to remain rational. “We need a plan other than divvying up bad guys. Where is everyone?”

  I bury a growl, terror for Hatter making me itch to punch things. “Hatter and the others are in the living room. Pan and the boy are in the kitchen. The upstairs is clear.”

  “You saw both of them?” Wendy grips daggers in her hands.

  “I saw Pan talking to someone and two mugs on the counter. So obviously he was in there with them.”

  “Okay, so how should we handle this? There’s three of us, two of them.”

  I spare a second to wish for Belle’s tactical mind, trying to think like she does — shoving away emotion and thinking logically.

  “I’ll go in upstairs, one of you take the front, the other the back. Before I break into the upstairs, I’ll get Sherlock and Belle’s attention to let them know we’re here.” It’s not a great plan, but it’s all I’ve got and we need to hurry. Not just for Hatter’s sake, but everyone still fighting the riders.

  “And once we’re inside?”

  “Once I’m in position, I’ll signal and we burst in and kick ass.”

  Jane and Wendy nod in unison, content with my skeleton of a plan.

  I wish I was.

  While the Storm Wailed like a Shadow

  Memories wash over me as I slide through the window and into what was once my bedroom. I can still picture how it once was — the wooden bed covered by a pale blue blanket in the middle of the room. The dresser against the wall filled with our clothes. The navy rug on the floor.

  I also remember where the loose boards are on the floor, which I avoid as I make my way to the door, praying there aren’t too many new ones to give me away. I focus on the people who do still need me downstairs. I can’t help my dead family, but I can help my new family.

  They’re the ones who need me. Not Fitz and my children. Not anymore. Not for a long time. If we don’t release the ghosts of our past, they can be used against us.

  And it’s time for me to accept it completely and let them go.

  I press send on my phone as soon as my foot hits the last step leading to the living room, sliding into the alcove, to stay out of sight. I perk my ears, listening out for movement. I can see Sherlock, but only the back of Belle. Sherlock nods at me and whispers under her breath to Belle.

  Jane and Wendy burst through the doors and I slide my pocket knife across the floor to Sherlock. I draw my sword and run into the kitchen, leaving Jane to deal with the hostages.

  I catch sight of Wendy flying from the house, in pursuit of Pan while a young woman in a flannel shirt and jeans stands in the middle of my kitchen, wringing her hands.

  With a confused scowl, I point my sword at her throat. “Who are you? What are you doing here? Where’s the horn?”

  “I just want to be with Herne. He told me this was the only way.”

  The tip of my sword drops a little from confusion. “What? Who’s Herne? Who told you what?”

  Belle and Sherlock run in, their own weapons back in hand.

  “Is Hatter okay?” I almost scream the question at Belle.

  She nods. “Just knocked out. They’ll both be fine.”

  Guilt stabs me for not caring about Muffet, but I ignore it. “Someone needs to go check on Wendy. She went after Pan.”

  “I’m on it,” Jane says, running for the door.

  “What the hell is going on?” My head spins, the adrenaline demanding I fight something.

  Belle sighs. “She’s a shepherdess from a tale ages ago. It’s long since been lost.”

  A tear slides down the girl’s cheek. “I don’t even remember it. All I remember is Herne. He’s supposed to be a rider of the Wild Hunt. I don’t even know my own name. I’ve been alive and alone for so long, but my story is gone, so all that’s left of me is Herne. I have to find him. Pan told me about the horn and said he’d help me.”

  I scowl at this utter nonsense. “Why did you take my friends hostage?”

  “Pan said they’d stop me. Keep me from Herne. I’ll do whatever it takes to find him.”

  She’s gone mad. I’ve heard of this happening. Characters whose stories lose popularity have trouble. If they die, they won’t return. And if they live, they still fade. I’ve never met one before, though. I wasn’t even sure there were any left. The fact she hasn’t faded completely away is impressive. It must be her connection to Herne.

  The name is vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it. “Who’s Herne?” I ask Belle, knowing she’d know.

  “A legend. Shakespeare was the first to talk about him. In Merry Wives.”

  The shepherdess gasps, clasping her hands to her chest. “You know him? You know Herne?”

  Belle holds up her hand. “I’ve heard the name, that’s all.”

  The girl sinks to her knees, pleading. “You must help me. I have to join the Hunt. If I join, we’ll ride together always.”

  My brows raise. “Will that work?” Normally the Hunt consists of Fae readying their return.

  Sherlock answers. “It should. There are always regulars in the Hunts. If we can get her on a unicorn, it should work. Is that what we’re going to do after everything? Allow her to join the Hunt? Shouldn’t you put her in prison?”

  Belle shakes her head. “It’s not like the riders are our enemies. They can’t help who they are. And adding her won’t make things more difficult for us to keep mortals safe. She should have the chance. This is no life for her and Pan is the goal. He used her.”

  “Well, there are plenty of riderless unicorns racing over the moors.” I check my watch, my pulse leaping at how long it’s already been since we left the others. “Speaking of, we should probably actually do something about the Hunt before the riders kill our people.”

  And Hatter.

  Belle seems to have a handle on this, the threat is disabled. I shove my sword back into the scabbard and hurry for the living room, skidding to a halt.

  Muffet has woken and has Hatter’s head in her lap. He’s still out cold, but his head. Is in her lap. Though I no longer have the right to care.

  Seeing
them there, in front of the same fireplace Fitz and I used to curl up in front of, keeping each other warm on the bitter nights. turns my stomach.

  I spin around and return to the kitchen. “Let’s go catch a unicorn.”

  To Eternal Anguish Doomed

  “Is Hatter okay?” Belle asks.

  “Muffet is awake and taking care of him.”

  Belle’s eyes widen at my tone, but she doesn’t push. “I’ll let her know where we’re going.” She passes me to go into the living room while I step deeper into the kitchen.

  “Where’s the horn?”

  The woman reaches into her bag on the counter and hands it to me with trembling hands. It’s a gleaming black unicorn horn, shiny and sleek, looking nothing like a thousand year old relic. It looks more like it came from Ikea. “Please. Before you send it away, help me.”

  “We will.” Maybe some good can come of this mess.

  “Unfortunately, she doesn’t know anything of Pan’s plans. Or why he involved himself in this.” Sherlock frowns, staring at the woman.

  “Damn. You don’t have any helpful observations?” I’m unable to keep all of the disdain from my voice.

  Sherlock ignores it, shaking her head. “Nothing pertinent to Pan, I’m afraid.”

  Belle returns, taking the horn from me. “Let’s go save our people.”

  Outside, I tilt my head, searching for any sign of Wendy or Pan, but there’s nothing. No sign of Jane either. She probably went back to check on Rochester.

  Belle brings the horn to her lips, her cheeks puffing as she blows on it. I clap my hands over my ears at the volume, wincing as the noise tries to split my skull.

  I can still hear it even after the horn is back at Belle’s side. “That should do it.”

  “Do what?” I ask.

  She squints against the black of the night. “I had the riders stand down and I called them and their mounts here.”

  Some of the tension leaves my shoulders. “Smart. Now, we don’t have to go chasing down rogue unicorns.”

  “Exactly. And we can send them all out of here together all at once.” She winces. “Rochester just bellowed at me. Everyone’s all right, they’re confused, but following the riders.”