Woe for a Faerie

by Bokerah Brumley

  A trio of fedoras with two prisoners in tow. A short man in a pinstriped suit lifted a hand, but the accompanying smile wasn’t kind or friendly. Two men in almost identical suits held the upper arms of a hooded third, a man by the looks of the body shape and clothing. Between them, the prisoner’s head lolled from side to side, his toes dragging in the dust.

  “Sorry I’m underdressed,” I said, gesturing at my t-shirt and sweatpants.

  “No problem. We didn’t issue a dress code,” said the one in the lead. “Otherwise it would have been a problem.”

  The three men boasted black pupils so large I couldn’t make out the whites of their eyes. A side effect of their employment, perhaps. A curvy brunette in oversized clothes, her frizzy hair in a low ponytail, followed meekly behind, her wrists handcuffed. Her mechanical movements made me wonder if she was part robot. Other than the handcuffs, she remained unremarkable. She reminded me of somebody cowed by life, attempting to get by without being noticed.

  I couldn’t tell who the paranormal scent came from. The suits looked about seventy years out of place. Old-world gangsters in opposition to today’s new digital world. I would bet everything that the hooded man was Frank.

  The leader brought his company to a halt. “Jason Orwell? Jason, the priest?” he said in a nasally whine.

  “That’s me,” I said. The girl had stopped when the others did, but she stared at her feet without moving. “You’re the Boss?”

  All three men snickered. “No, no,” answered the one. “Not guilty. The Boss is out of town at the moment. She’s checking on some things on the West Coast.”

  The hooded guy started shaking his head back and forth, but the leader spun on his heels and decked him in the stomach. His knees bent, but the other two guys kept him upright.

  When he turned back around, he made a sound with his tongue, sucking on his teeth. “Good, good,” he said. “This is Frank.” He waved behind him. “Jason, you know Frank, right?”

  I nodded. This wasn’t good.

  “I’m Joseph, or Joe, if you like,” he said. Joe twirled a gold band on his left ring finger. The guy was married. He handed me a card. I tucked it in my pocket.

  How could this creep be married? Did his partner know what he did?

  But I kept my face emotionless. Don’t anger the guy calling the shots. I didn’t have a plan. Joe tucked his hands into his pockets.

  “Nice to meet you,” I offered with a smile. I was a priest. Sometimes it mattered. Sometimes the friendliness helped. But this guy already knew I was a priest. I wished I had let the Librarian call Vic and Lev, put them on alert, or something. “What can I do for you, Joe?”

  Joe jerked his head toward his henchmen. “Let him go,” he said. “And take off the hood.” Frank had regained his balance. The men let go of their prisoner and all three stepped aside.

  When they pulled the hood away, Frank squinted into the light. It would be hard to see in daylight after being under a black hood.

  “Jason?” Frank hesitated, but hope tinted his tone.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Over here.”

  Frank turned toward me. “It’s not Tuesday,” he said as his mouth twisted into a half-smile, sad, knowing. “I’ll miss our Tuesdays.”

  I shook my head and gritted my teeth. Frank had been watching too many detective shows. Not every prisoner dies. “Don’t talk that way,” I admonished.

  I slipped my hands into my pockets. I didn’t have any tools. No weapons. Nothing I could use as a weapon.

  “Let her go,” Joe’s voice interrupted. One of the flunkies pulled a button out of his pocket and pressed it. Moments later, the shackles on the girl’s wrists fell away.

  The moment her bindings loosened, she raised her chin. Her irises glowed lavender, and bright red lips curled into a crazed grin. Faster than any mortal could, she launched herself toward Frank.

  She floated through the air in a high arc, the mask that made her appear average fell away, and the moments stretched out. She was breathtaking – bright-eyed, curvy in all the right places, hypnotic with her now-loose hair fanned out behind her.

  A paranormal muddle of smells emanated from her. She was glorious. Heat flared in the pit of my stomach and rushed through me. My pulse thundered in my eardrums. I broke out in a sweat. I wanted her, as badly as I had ever wanted anyone. I clenched my teeth and willed myself to be still. It was her way. It was her magic. It wasn’t real.

  When she landed, she reached around Frank and pulled him backwards, pressing two fingers to each side of his head, at the temples. At first, he struggled against her, kicking and flailing, but then his eyes rolled up in his head. She overpowered him and his face contorted in pain.

  “No, Jason!” Frank’s yell surprised me as I dove toward him. “Go, Jason, go.” His voice broke and something rattled at the back of his mouth. He gasped.

  A brilliant flash surrounded the two of them and an almost-familiar fragrance wafted through the air. When the glare dissipated, Frank lay on the ground and she stood over him. His eyes stared toward tomorrow, already gone from today.

  The woman’s shoulders drooped. Her smell changed again. Her blue eyes morphed to brown and her face cleared, scanning the area until she saw me. “Was he your friend?”

  I nodded, not quite certain what to make of her supposed remorse, suspecting it was all an act.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “What was his name?” Her face twisted.

  Shocked, I stood silently with my hand outstretched toward my deceased friend, unable to form any words in answer. Her contrition shocked me even more. She pressed her palms to her forehead and swayed.

  “Get her,” Joe commanded. “We don’t want her shifting and getting away.”

  One of the two scooped up the handcuffs and then both ran after her. Before she could take a step, they slapped them back on her wrists. Her posture straightened, and she was once again the mechanical woman who had arrived.

  “What do you want?” Emotion threatened to close my throat, so intense that my voice shook.

  Joe’s grin was ugly. “The Boss just wanted you to know she was watching. She doesn’t want the list. She never did. She wants that angel. She needs a breeder. Tell the Fae that the Boss wants his mate.”

  My stomach twisted, and I swallowed the gag. Woe wasn’t Arún’s mate.

  At least I knew for sure now. The Boss was a she. And she still wanted Woe.

  18

  A Plan

  Woe

  I reached for the pewter knob to my third-floor home.

  The complex wasn’t new, and it had taken some work to get the key to work in the deadbolt lock. I jiggled it in the slot until it came undone.

  I pushed the door open, about to step inside.

  “How ’bout them Yankees?”

  My new sneakers squeaked when I jumped. I pressed my forehead against the door. Above, someone’s door opened and closed. A woman yelled at noisy kids. The new place wasn’t as quiet as the church, but it was mine. And it wasn’t underground. That was a big plus.

  When I turned around, I said, “I won’t ever get used to you sneaking up on me.”

  Jason grinned. “Ready?”

  Tonight, the gravelly edge in his voice was startling. When had young Jason gotten to be half-old? “How long have I known you, Jason?”

  He counted under his breath, before starting over. “A long time,” he said finally.

  Weary, I leaned backward on the door. The pain still too fresh in the twin gouges between my shoulder blades; it had been weeks since I lost them. Yet the phantom feelings of wind through my feathers sometimes kept me awake at night. I’d be glad when both faded.

  He preened, proud of himself for startling me.

  “Must you be smug?”

  “Maybe.” Coffee-stained teeth reflected the dim light. “I had a feeling you’d be here and here you are.”

  “You didn’t give me much choice. I don’t have many options since I agreed to vacate
the park.” The door downstairs opened, and someone said something to another tenant. The sound of rain on the pavement filled the first-floor foyer and echoed up toward us. There was a squeak as the glass door slid closed and silenced the cloudburst.

  Jason stepped out of the dark and nodded. A size too small, the clergy collar squeezed his neck.

  “You should update your disguise.” I pointed to his neck.

  He paused to tug on it. “Come on, I’ll catch you up on the latest.”

  “What?”

  He disappeared down the wooden stairwell.

  “Just because you put me in an apartment, doesn’t mean you own me,” I yelled after him and decided to follow him anyway. It’s not like I had anything better to do.

  I owed him a lot. This had been the trade. I promised to stop sleeping in the park and stop trying to be a hooker. It had taken just as much key-jiggling to re-lock my apartment door. In that time, the rain had stopped.

  Out on the sidewalk, Jason stood with his arms crossed behind his back. He studied the sky above, each hand tucked into the opposite elbow. The position made his middle poke out more than usual. I wasn’t about to tell him. Instead, I said, “So?”

  He walked away from me. “We’ve decided we need to find your Fae friend.” Two blocks went by. His breath made cloud puffs that turned to condensation on his beard. The water beads glittered in the street light.

  “He’s not my friend,” I said finally. He was my love interest. But that wasn’t the whole truth. I owed the Fae my life on more than one count. I’d been a mortal for not quite a month and I’d already racked up more debt than I could ever pay back.

  “Your stalker then.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Have you figured out who he is yet?”

  I shrugged. “Haven’t had a chance to ask him.” No matter how much I hoped he’d show up.

  We’d traveled close to ten blocks, and the night chill raised goosebumps on my arms. My teeth chattered. From this direction, we’d walk through the graveyard before reaching the church warmth. I wrapped my arms around myself. It didn’t help much.

  An ancient, wrought-iron lock secured the cemetery gate. Jason fished the keys from his pocket. It didn’t take long to find the scrollwork key, but by the time the gate swung open, he could hear my teeth chattering.

  His heavy eyebrows dropped low over his eyes. “Why didn’t you grab a jacket?”

  “I forgot.” I slipped past him, belly to belly. “Didn’t get cold before.” And then I stopped. He radiated warmth. The night chill abated.

  A cloud of cologne fuzzed my thoughts, wrapped around me, and drew me toward him. The thundering in my ears pulsed against my jaw joints until my lips parted to ease the pressure. A slow lift of my chin. My gaze climbed upward from button to button of his priestly garb. This close, what would Jason’s irises look like?

  His wet hair laid flat against his head. Back at my apartment, I hadn’t noticed it. “Did you shower?”

  “Sure.” He shifted as though the question made him uncomfortable.

  “I used to shower there.”

  “I think about that,” Jason said. Then he blushed, bright red.

  I couldn’t hide my surprise. The burly priest thought of me when he bathed.

  I reached up and smoothed my fingers over the waves. Not wet. Stiff. He ducked his head toward me, and, without thinking, my hand slipped down to cup the back of his neck, and I pressed against him.

  I trembled, and something fluttered through my insides. Those must have been the butterflies I read about in the how-to romance book I’d borrowed from the public library.

  A thousand tiny lightning bolts struck behind my belly button. I blurted, “Why do you always smell so good?”

  Heat spread up my neck and over my face―one-part want and one-part panic. The panic was familiar. The want was better.

  His eyes dropped to my lips. An image pushed through. Lips on lips. Mine on his. His on mine. Either. Both.

  I flexed my calves and pushed upward onto my toes, into him.

  The movement startled him. “Woe, what are you―” He couldn’t move backwards. The gate frame blocked his way.

  My eyes slid closed. It had to be better than the one-sided Fae magic.

  His hands cupped my upper arms.

  I pushed my lips out. I knew that much.

  And then his warmth was gone.

  My eyes snapped open. “What?”

  “You are beautiful, Woe.” He drew a ragged breath. “Tempting.” He smoothed his hand through his hair. “It’s terribly inappropriate. I’m not a priest, but I’m old enough to be your father.”

  “I don’t think that’s accurate, Jason. Westminster, remember?”

  He shifted from side to side. “I don’t think that counts anymore.”

  And then we stared at each other until he cursed and finally turned away. He disappeared in the shadows around the church.

  Where was my pale savior when I needed him? Maybe he’d actually kiss me.

  I would never figure out how to be a mortal. Ever.

  When I slipped in through the side door, Jason was seated in the end of a pew. His arms were crossed.

  I asked, “Are you sleeping?” How did he fall asleep so quickly? It took me hours when I managed it.

  He looked me up and down. “I was thinking,” he said, finally. “Sleeping would probably be healthier.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “Why?”

  He stood. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. And I’m old.”

  “You’re not that old, Jason,” I scoffed. “Not compared to…”

  He held up a hand to hush my repetitive Westminster commentary. “Woe, it’s not a competition. I take you seriously, but your body has never been old and tired.” His gaze dipped briefly, then climbed back up to meet mine. “And I have been around long enough to be both old and tired this late at night.”

  He gestured me ahead of him. “Time to have a look downstairs. I have something I need to show you.”

  We went through the door at the right of the altar and downstairs to the library. Jason tugged the old books and opened the hidden doorway. Oblivious to the turmoil rolling through me, he asked, “Coming?”

  I really disliked that word.

  I took two steps forward and the ground moved beneath my feet. I clutched the edge of the square table until my knuckles turned white. A heart attack would kill me, just like the letter-writing priest. Any minute, an angel would appear to deliver a final missive.

  Breathe.

  1… 2… 3… 4… I counted my breaths as I managed them. The episode didn’t worsen but did not fade.

  Jason grimaced. “Claustrophobia?” He tapped his chin. “I hoped it would have passed by now.”

  Bile burned the base of my esophagus, and I worked the muscles in my throat convulsively. “Hasn’t yet,” I muttered through clenched teeth.

  “Give me a sec.” He left the room.

  When he returned, he held two glass cylinders filled with green liquid. Little bubbles rolled up the sides. “Here drink this.” He pressed one into my hands.

  “What is it?” My upper lip curled as I sniffed the canister. A tart smell drifted up.

  “Vic created these. It’s based on an ancient recipe. I think she came up with it last year or something.” He grinned. “Liquid strength.”

  I knocked it back. I didn’t feel any different. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. Gives you wings.” And then he winked.

  Gives you wings. I puzzled over his response until I reached the bottom of the stairs. He couldn’t possibly mean I’d grow them back. He was too nonchalant about it for something that would be life-changing for me.

  “Oh, dear,” I whispered. My heartbeat sped up, and something knocked against my chest. “What was that?”

  “It’s an energy drink… of sorts.” He motioned me down the stairwell ahead of him. “Sometimes it makes you believe you can take on the world.”

  I took one
step down the stairs, turned back, and said, “I don’t feel well.”

  And then I threw up on his shoes.

  “Did I pass out?” The hard ground supported me, and the smell of damp mixed with vomit assailed my nose. I squinted.

  “I’m not sure.” Jason squatted beside me. He had one arm behind me and, with the other, he dabbed at my mouth with a handkerchief. “Sorry. We won’t do those again. I guess they don’t agree with you.” He tucked the square back into his pocket.

  “God, it feels like my insides plunged into the depths of hell and back again.” I hugged my achy abdomen. “Terrible.” In the middle of a rolling stomach cramp, the nausea passed.

  That’s odd.

  The unrepentant priest grinned at me. “Feeling better?”

  “What’d you do?” I scowled as I leaned forward and tried to mentally attribute the change.

  “Gave you the antidote to the Hyde compound.” He patted his pocket. “Another secret recipe.” He moved his arm and watched me to make sure I wouldn’t fall over. Satisfied I was stable, he stood.

  My irritation faded when I noticed the wooden slat ceiling above him. We weren’t in the church anymore. At least, not any part that I recognized, but with no noise from the street, I couldn’t place where we were. I raised my eyebrows at him. He still smirked at me like he’d lost his mind.

  “Got ya down here anyway.” He crossed his arms behind his back and rocked forward onto his toes and back again.

  “What?” My heart thumped in my chest.

  He shrugged. “Never let an opportunity go to waste. It seemed a good time to get you downstairs, so I carried you down.”

  “We’re under the church?” With an ancient stone church and spires above me, invisible fingers crept around my throat, but I took a deep breath instead and pushed the feeling aside.

  Jason nodded. “Yes, but we’ll go down to the Atheneum.”

  “Ath-uh-nee-um?” I repeated the strange word.

  “Fancy word for a book repository.” He clasped his arms behind him and shrugged. “We couldn’t have two places named Library.” He took my hands in his. “You’ll feel more comfortable there, and we can discuss what we need to do.”