Woe for a Faerie

by Bokerah Brumley

  With a start, I realized I’d Fallen nearby. This beautiful place could have been my grave. The wind brushed through my hair and knocked bare branches against each other. The smell of threatening rain replaced the chill and caught me by surprise. Instead of trucks rumbling on concrete, thunder rolled in from the edges of the sky.

  I crossed my arms. As a mortal, I’d not yet been caught outside in a rain storm. Maybe that could be my end. A loose lightning bolt sent to finish the job.

  Beneath a cherry tree, I stood, one foot on the gravel sidewalk and one on a singed patch of earth; this was where I’d landed.

  And I knew.

  I turned slowly on my heels.

  There he stood, beside a slatted park bench on a thickly grassed knoll, in ripped jeans, brazenly shirtless. He had pointy ears under silvery ashen hair that stuck out in spikes and pointed in all directions. His pewter-colored wings stretched above him in shimmery iridescent feathers. Beneath him, azure bluets pressed up through the night-dark soil and leaned toward him until he stood on a bed of blooms, in a lovely, dreamy contradiction. Lucky flowers.

  After he folded his wings together, they shrank and disappeared into his back. Black ink flames moved along his forearms to his biceps and down again, tattoos alive in the moonlight. Surely, it was a trick of the clouds now rolling across the sky. On his wrists, he wore metal cuffs inlaid with gold symbols I couldn’t read. He had been chiseled from alabaster.

  And he knew.

  “You’re beautiful.” And exciting. I sighed. He was the sort of man I could lean against. He’d be firm and unyielding, a hard place in a confusing world. My gaze dropped to his trousers, and a blush burned across my cheeks.

  Something predatory flashed in his ivory eyes, and he smiled before he ducked his head in acknowledgement.

  I wanted to say something else, to get him to talk to me, but anything rational was lost to the sticky syrup in my brain before I could express it.

  One corner of his mouth turned up as he lifted his hand. A glow built in his palm.

  “Magic? There’s magic here?”

  “Mmm,” he said, the sound drawn out like a starving man tasting a fine meal. “I have some of the best kind. Watch.”

  He winked, and with a flick of his wrist, he sent the orb across the space between us. He stretched the shape into long fingers until it had turned into a half-dozen cords, linking him and me.

  In an icy rush, his spell danced across my skin. The sensation of his fingers caressing my whole body filled my mind, edging out everything else. My jaw went slack and my breath came out as a shuddering sigh, “Oooooooh.”

  The blue glow teased the hair at the nape of my neck, brushed across my lips, and smoothed down my sides. Images blurred in my vision, and my eyes slid closed. He edged everything out until he possessed every thought.

  His magic caressed the sensitive places behind my knees and moved upward ever so slowly along my inner thighs. Long fingers brushed against me and stoked a fire in my belly until…

  “Woe,” he said. “Look at me.”

  I opened my eyes, nearly drowning in the sensations he poured over me.

  His gaze met mine, and he said, “I had to see how you were, and I wanted you to remember me.”

  I gasped. The words were the fuse on an explosive keg of desire, and I arched toward him. He was definitely more exciting than Jason.

  He smiled again, satisfied and smug. Then his eyes widened, and he let the enchantment fade. The luminescence dissipated in the breeze.

  Jason had never done anything like that. That kind of passion didn’t exist in him. He’d just pull on his chin hairs and stare at me.

  Oh. Jason. He was going to be pissed that I’d found the guy who saved me. I had to hide my grin. Maybe he’d be angry enough to do something. Anything. I’d spent weeks in his bed, and not once…

  I glanced at the winged beast, and he bowed slightly. “I apologize if I took liberties. Perhaps you are not interested in me in that way. My Fae instincts are hard to ignore.”

  I bit down on a bereft moan and tried to focus on the list of questions I’d been keeping since he’d saved me, but the only question I could conjure was: Could you do that again? I had no idea physical contact could be like that. And I wanted to know.

  Instead, I managed a weak, “You saved me.”

  He stepped around the edge of the bench and sat down. He was so… big.

  Pale knees peeked through the rips in the knees of his jeans. “I had to,” he said. “My sister asked me to.” He waved me over.

  Shirtless in New Haven City Park like he owned the whole place.

  I shook my head. It was crazy. “No, that’s okay, I’ll stand.”

  Hesitant, uncertain, embarrassed by the intensity of my body’s response to him, I didn’t move closer. If he did that again, I wouldn’t be able to think at all, and all my traitorous body wanted was for him to do that again. And again. Please.

  His nearness sent overwhelming sensations pulsing through my brain. It confused me. And I needed clarity.

  “Why did she ask you to… ah….” Magic crept over my skin again but tried to ignore it. I shivered. There was something between us. “Why did she ask you to do that?”

  Those were the only words I had the ability to string together.

  He leaned forward, settled his elbows on the tops of his knees, and pressed his fingers and thumbs together. When he looked up, his pupils reflected the light from the cityscape behind us, the eye-shine eerie. “Because she cared what happens to you.”

  A burst of magic flashed and bolted across the space between us. From where he sat, he caressed my cheek and drew another involuntary shuddering breath from me.

  I took a step forward. Wait. Here to save me? Why?

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “I don’t know you or your sister.”

  “That’s true.” His magic faded. “Do you trust me?”

  No, I didn’t know enough to trust anyone. Between him and Jason, there were too many secrets. I had questions, and the answers slipped away anytime I got close to them.

  “But why did you save me?” I needed to know.

  He didn’t move.

  “And how did you know my name before I did? Who told you?” He knew me before I did. There was something else there. Same with Jason.

  He pressed his lips together and stood. “Stay with the priest. He will keep you safe from the creatures that hunt in the dark.”

  “Creatures?” I frowned. “There’s more than you here?”

  He chuckled. “I think you’re going to be surprised by what hides just out of sight.”

  Thunder rumbled above us, and the moon dipped behind a dark cloud.

  “Wait…” I reached out. “What do you mean?”

  I heard his wings whistle against the air. It sounded like mourning doves. “I don’t even know your name,” I called after him.

  A flash of lightning broke the night, but he was gone, and the air was soaked with the promise of a deluge. It wouldn’t take me long to get back to the church.

  If I could make it…

  A fat drop splashed my cheek.

  I needed to find a place to stay. Soon.

  Jason pushed me to settle at the church. He mentioned something about empty apartments underneath. I doubted Jason would allow any visitors. And I wanted the freedom to see my winged fellow.

  Why would his sister care what happened to me?

  But there was no way I could live down there. If I stayed under the street level, I’d spend my nights curled in a ball in a corner, suffering through episode after episode of panic or anxiety attacks. My chest hurt every time I even thought about it.

  I tucked my hands into my pockets to halt the tremor. I needed a rooftop, windows, a garden, open spaces.

  Maybe it was this skin.

  Mortal skin was like being wrapped in a leather straitjacket. And then add underground on top of it, and it was too much like a tomb. I shuddered. Definitely not
happening.

  I didn’t want to sleep in Jason’s bed again either, but maybe he’d let me bunk on a pew. It would have to do for the night.

  Several blocks later, the skies opened and poured a waterfall over New Haven City. I burst into the always-unlocked church with a gush. My clothes were soaked, and I left a puddle with every step I took toward the donation box.

  I rummaged through it for anything I could wear. Peeling off the wet things, I shivered in the empty church foyer. I grabbed a serape from the one-hundred-fifty-year-old box and scrubbed away the moisture with the rough material. My skin was still sensitive from the magic, and I gave my hips an extra shimmy as I slipped into palazzo pants.

  My hair leaked freezing drops down my back, and I rubbed the poncho over my wet strands. I didn’t hear the footsteps.

  When Jason cleared his throat, I simultaneously lost my grip on the makeshift towel, blinding myself yet again, and jumped forward several feet. Unable to see anything but striped material, I tripped into the clothes donation box head first.

  Jason’s laughter was loud in the sanctuary. As I scrambled to untangle myself from the mountain of outdated clothes, his laughter died away and a heavy silence took its place.

  When I threw one leg over the edge, he did an about-face. I scowled at the back of the middle-aged man. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Without a word, he caught something with his heel and kicked it toward me.

  “Oh.” The syllable came out as a high-pitched squeak. Of course. My shirt. I was naked from the waist up, and I still wasn’t used to thinking like that. Except when that was all I could think about. Being mortal was incredibly complicated.

  I muttered an apology and slipped into the soft material. And for the second time in as many hours, I experienced a full body blush. “Okay. Decent.”

  Jason turned around but avoided eye contact. “Wet out,” he said.

  “Yep.” I pressed my lips together. “This place is beautiful in a thunderstorm.” The word brought a shirtless rescuer to mind, and my heart beat faster. I wanted to see him again. I just needed answers. I lied to myself.

  Jason raised his eyebrows. “It is, but what were you doing there?”

  I shrugged. “Exploring.” I kicked the wet clothes into a pile and stooped to pick them up. The moisture seeped across my chest and brought a chill with it. The wind howled around the stone corners. Why did Jason keep the church so cold?

  “Hunting?”

  “Questioning,” I said.

  “Questioning what?”

  “My purpose.” I dropped the clothes to the marble floor. “Where should I put these?” I waved to the footprint-shaped puddles across the floor. “And what should I use to clean up?”

  Jason studied me until his scrutiny made me uncomfortable. “How is he?” His mouth tightened at the last word.

  I didn’t really want to talk about him, so I shifted from side to side, then bent down. “Who?” I moved clothes in the bin from one side to the other and back again.

  “Woe,” Jason said.

  I gestured to the puddle I’d left. “Your parishioners might slip. Do you have a wet floor sign?”

  “Just remember that he left you here like an unwanted child of God and the universe. You went on and on about him when you were delirious.” Jason crossed his arms. Judge and jury all rolled into one.

  “So?”

  “I can tell you’re attracted to him, Woe. Your pupils dilate; your pulse speeds up until I can see it throb at the base of your neck. You can’t sit still when you think about him.” His upper lip lifted in a snarl. “And you reek of magic.”

  Could Jason tell that I was attracted to him, too? Yet he did nothing.

  I turned away and started down the center aisle. I had a choice. I earned it when my wings burned away, and I didn’t have to stand there and listen to him criticize it. “Well, if you won’t tell me where your wet floor signs are, I’m sure I can find paper towels or a mop.”

  Jason followed. “You know your attraction might only be spells and magic.”

  He didn’t take the hint. What if it was? Maybe I liked it. The attention. The sensations. Things were different now. I didn’t have to act like an angel anymore. “So?”

  Jason sputtered, “The Fae don’t visit our world. They don’t vacation here.”

  So my savior was a Fae. I had a name for his kind.

  Jason continued his barrage, “Who does he work for? What does he want?”

  Me. He wants me. I already wanted my big, hunky Fae. But I didn’t say it out loud.

  I made a sharp left and crossed the marble floor. Along one wall, on the other side of the pews, stood the confessional, ornate with gothic mahogany spires that had been lovingly hand-turned by someone long since dead. On either side of the center door meant for the confessor, dark red velvet draped the arched openings. I yanked back the curtain, first to one side and then the other. No mops in the confessional, but I spied another small door beside the structure.

  The low door was made from old fencing, the wood dried and unpainted. A black wrought-iron circle matched the thin horizontal strips that held the planks together. When my fist closed around the pull, the time-made pocks were rough beneath my fingertips. It didn’t budge. I yanked again, harder. With a grinding screech, it moved two inches and a light flicked on. Jason’s footsteps were getting closer.

  I pressed my face to the opening. As tall as me, a stack of black boxes blinked with flashing lights and dials and digital messages. Strange. I’d never seen a computer or anything in the church. Two words caught my attention.

  “Hello, Woe” scrolled across a small digital screen.

  Before I could study the words on the readouts, Jason stepped in front of me. He laid one hand on my forearm and used the other to press the door closed. He ducked his head to force me to meet his gaze, and I blamed the step backwards on the intensity that burned in his eyes.

  His beard quivered, and he leaned toward me, his look intense. “Do you understand what I’m saying? Your attraction to this Fae isn’t real.”

  Something else flashed in Jason’s eyes.

  The sensations of the luminescent enchantment were still fresh in my mind and I shivered. I tucked my hair behind my ear, hoping he hadn’t noticed it. I wanted to explore what was blossoming between me and the one that saved me, and it was apparent that Jason didn’t like it one bit. I was tired of it. He didn’t get to manage every part of my life.

  “There’s attraction, Jason, and he acts on it.” And YOU don’t. I didn’t say it, but the words were there, ricocheting from church corner to church corner.

  Jason reared back as though I’d struck him, but he didn’t let go of my arm. A moment later, he bit out, “But why does he want you?”

  The implication of his words stung, and I blinked rapidly to clear the tears that pooled in my eyes. I gave him the only answer I had. “He makes me feel something. He makes me feel wanted… needed.”

  I glanced down. A simple gold band glittered on Jason’s ring finger, little green stones caught the light that filtered through the stained-glass windows that depicted the agony in the garden. The warmth of his hand on my arm brought my city park savior to mind, and I wondered what sort of passion rolled beneath Jason’s cool exterior.

  “He wants me, just the way I am. Broken parts and all,” I said. “Do you?”

  The words burst from me.

  Jason yanked his hand back as though I burned him. “Do I… what?”

  “Want me?”

  “I don’t… That is I’m not sure… Priests don’t…”

  “But you aren’t a priest. You’ve said it often enough yourself.”

  He swallowed, and his voice died away. He reached for me again, as though afraid I might break, as though touching the air beside me was enough.

  I leaned into his hand, then, and his breath left him in a shuddering sigh.

  “You sleep in my bed,” he said. “I dream about you.”

  �
��Where do you sleep now? I don’t see you as much.” I licked my lips, and he stared at my mouth, his gaze moving to follow. He could sleep in the same bed. He could…

  Choices.

  I might have earned the right to make them, but I couldn’t tell which was better. I couldn’t tell what would balance my insides… A Fae that made my blood run fiery hot or the pseudo-priest who would be the bedrock to build a life upon.

  My thoughts ran on in a long stream until the resulting sigh was slow and long. “Tell the sisters I’m sorry about the mess. I’ll see you around.”

  With that, I left Jason, standing gape-mouthed behind me.

  10

  Chess

  Jason

  Subway Station

  Two rough-looking fellows meandered down the stairs behind me. The train blew through the station below, sending litter floating across the platform. Like the setup for a showdown in all the old westerns.

  The only thing missing was the woman. But I wouldn’t win a shootout. Not in my shape. Woe had my insides in knots, and it was hard to keep my attention on what I was doing.

  I never had a woman. My job was my mistress. That’s the way my predecessors had all been. I couldn’t—

  “I see them,” Vic said in my earpiece.

  “Good. Got their images?” Glancing over my shoulder at the thugs, I winked again.

  My movement triggered a mechanism, and the quiet click of the shutter on the camera glasses ticked in my ear as I loitered at the base of the subway station’s stairwell. I stroked my long beard. Those two thugs wouldn’t know how to pull off nonchalant if it bit them in their backsides. Woe stood at the edges of my thoughts, no matter how much I tried to ignore her.

  Vic rattled off a string of partial words.

  “Say that again, Vic?” I scowled. She was breaking up. I’d just have to call her back. I had other irons in the fire. I had been out taking care of business, but Frank waited for me and our weekly Tuesday chess game. And I needed to figure out if Frank had any information on the Boss who pulled the strings on a dozen puppets throughout the paranormal underworld of New Haven City.