Gray and Graves: A Dark Fae Menage Urban Fantasy (The Three Courts of Faerie Book 1)

by C. M. Stunich

  So that was why the Queens had panicked. It made sense, sort of. But the big question was, why were they testing people in the first place and why had Aife lied to him about my results? How often did they get a human soul to weigh anyway? I knew it was almost impossible to cross the Veil without the help of someone who was magically inclined and they were few and far between. Besides, humans didn't even know Faerie or its inhabitants existed.

  “What's a liath, Corey?” He sighed and took one of my hands between his.

  “A liath is a soul that needs some help before it can be reincarnated into its next life. When Liadain ruled the Gray Court, she could weigh a soul with her bare hands and determine the best course of action for the person to find peace: whether it was to pass on, go back to their previous life, or something else altogether. But now, Aife and Scatach can only weigh the souls on the scales that Liadain left. The only choice for a liath now is to join one of the courts.” He paused then and furrowed a brow. “You'd think the lack of alternatives would've strengthened the courts, swollen their numbers, but there are so much fewer fae now than when I was here last.” Corey looked back up at me and sighed. “There's something troubling going on, but Aife won't talk about it. Fuck the fae for being so secretive.” He tried to smile to lighten the mood or maybe to pretend that he hadn't just given me information that was going to rearrange my entire view of the universe.

  “You mean Faerie is like … ” I struggled to find the words. “Like … like the Underworld or something?” Corey squeezed my hands.

  “I know this is hard to take in, George, but it's true. I've tried to explain some of this to you before.” I jerked my hands away from him.

  “You told me that souls were reincarnated after death, Corey. Not that they went to fucking Faerie.” I was so mad that I was spitting. I wiped my arm across my mouth. “This is so … so … fucked up!” Eloquent, Georgette, nice choice of words. Corey frowned at me.

  “You don't need to overreact, George. Not everyone goes here, just some.”

  “Like me!” I screeched, throwing my feet out of bed and standing so that I was facing him. “People like me! Why did you bring me here in the first place, if you knew that might happen? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Corey stood up, too, his cheeks reddening. He was pissed. He wasn't used to me standing up for myself like this; nobody was because I never did. But this was my soul, my soul.

  “You were murdered, Georgette. It happens. Lots of murder victims end up here so that they can go back and avenge themselves, but you will be okay. You don't have to join the court until you're dead. And you're undead, George, undead. I told you that we'd figure out how to get you a real body. I told you that.”

  “Fuck you!” I screamed at him, picking up an empty ceramic vase. I neglected to throw it, but at least it made me feel better to threaten him with it. “Get out! Leave me alone!” Corey scowled and snapped his fingers. Elizabeth opened the door from the outside.

  “Yes, Master?” I gave her a look of loathing and she cowered. Corey stomped to the door, and Elizabeth scampered out of his way.

  “I'll be back in an hour. Get a-fucking-hold of yourself, Georgette.” He slammed the door behind him as I fell to my knees and sobbed.

  Amadan slunk out from beneath the bed in the form a petite white cat with indigo stripes down its back. He purred like the real thing and let me stroke him for awhile, arching his back and rubbing against my knee. I didn't understand the sudden compassion from the Fool, but I didn't care. I needed an outlet. If he wanted to play the part, so be it.

  After what felt like hours of chin scratching and belly rubbing, he retreated a few careful feet away from me and shifted back into his sidhe form. The sudden addition of so much matter was disturbing. I didn't know where it came from, but I didn't care to ask. I had more important issues to deal with.

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked him.

  “I'm not being nice. Cats like to be petted.”

  “Whatever.” I rose to my feet and tried to find the restroom. A hot shower would feel really, really good. “Where's the bathroom?” Amadan pointed a finger at a door in the corner, partially obscured by a tapestry of two sidhe engaged in some lurid sexual act. I made towards it, not caring what Amadan did, when he next spoke.

  “Rachel is my occasional lover,” Amadan said mildly. “I owed her a favor when she let me keep her child.” I whirled around to face him. Rachel didn't have any kids. She wasn't even bi; she was a lesbian.

  “You're lying,” I spat, eyes narrowed, not caring if I pissed him off. I didn't care about treading on the toes of the sidhe at that moment though if I'd been thinking clearly, I should have. He could still kill me with a thought.

  “Why would I do that? I'm trying to help.” Amadan rose from his feet, all grace and fluidity. “Rachel thought you might come after her. She played upon our favor to get me to help you.” The statement stung. I hadn't come for her. I'd come to get another donor. Rachel had been like an afterthought, an aside to the main quest. “Dearbhail still cares about you though she is loath to admit it. What did you do to hurt her so?”

  “Jir-vel?” I repeated, not understanding.

  “Rachel,” Amadan breathed, obviously annoyed with me. “Her true name is Dearbhail.” Suddenly, I felt like I knew nothing about the woman I'd lived with for six months. Absolutely nothing.

  “Where is her child?” I snapped back, not really caring but needing him to prove it somehow.

  “He is dead.” Amadan said this as if he were discussing the weather. “But that is not important.”

  “Your dead child isn't important to you?” I hissed. Amadan stalked towards me like he was going to touch me but didn't.

  “I didn't say it was my child.” I stepped away from him so that my back was to the bathroom door. “I said she let me keep her child. I haven't an idea of who fathered it.” I swallowed and reached behind my back, hand questing for the doorknob. I didn't like the tension in the room. It was becoming dangerous. “My queen was young, she required a companion, one that could be raised alongside of her. I needed a small child, and I trusted Dearbhail. No child would've served better, save my own, but alas, I remain childless to this day.”

  “Your queen?” I asked. “Scatach?” Amadan grinned, lips pulling back over his square teeth. He looked irate though I didn't know what had been in my last statement that could've upset him so badly.

  “Never. I'm talking about the Gray Queen. I pledged my life to that court, and I will see its reemergence into this realm even if it leads to the death of my soul. So,” Amadan loomed over me, eyes glinting. “I find now that my favor to that woman has turned into a blessing.” His voice was becoming hysterical, like it had in the forest. I turned the doorknob and stumbled back, attempting to throw the door in his face. He stopped it easily and continued towards me as I retreated into the opulent bathroom. “I find myself,” he reached a hand out and touched the side of my face. “Faced with the only member of the Gray to emerge in over two decades.” His touch was gentler than I had suspected and if I wasn't mistaken, full of longing. The gaze in his eyes was intense. “May I?”

  It only took me a moment to understand what he was asking for.

  I didn't love him; I didn't even really like him, but he would do. I needed an outlet for my feelings, and sex was a good way to accomplish that. Besides, he made me feel closer to Rachel and the life I'd had before I died. Strange, that the man the sidhe referred to as the Fool, who was as crazy as they came, could make me feel normal.

  We stood, frozen in the same position like statues, for several moments. He was powerful enough to take what he wanted from me. All of the sidhe were. But he was asking. Why? It didn't make any sense. Not from what I knew of the sidhe. They certainly weren't opposed to the raping of humans.

  “What am I?” I asked him as my hand dropped down below his waist. For the first time since I'd seen him standing naked in front of the forest, he was erect and ready. He groaned deep
in his throat as I took him into my hand and stroked the length of him.

  “You're a sign of hope for the fae, Georgette,” he said as his hands slipped the straps of my shift down over my shoulders. “Your presence here signals the rebirth of the Gray.” His mouth found mine with a frantic heat that filled me with desire from my head down to my toes.

  I kissed my worries and questions away as Amadan pulled me down to the floor, situating me atop him. I straddled his belly while he caressed my back and sides. I wasn't particularly in the mood for foreplay. Foreplay was what lovers did when they were exploring each other's bodies. I just wanted to fuck until the things I knew and the things I'd learned melted away into the edges of my subconscious.

  I scooted back and reached for his cock, adjusting myself so that I could push him deep inside of me. We groaned together as I slid my body down the length of him and rode him until I came. It didn't take long. Either my body was eager for a release of mood enhancing hormones, or he was just good, I didn't know. I didn't care either.

  I rolled off of him, panting, and lay on my back on the warm, marble floor. The air inside the palace was just as humid and salty as the air out, and I was soaked in sweat, but at least I felt better.

  Amadan turned onto his side, cock still swollen and needy. I grabbed it harder than was necessary and used my hold to guide him to my opening again. It wasn't like me to be so dominant during sex. It didn't matter whether I was with a man or a woman, I was always submissive. But there was something stirring inside of me, deep down in that pit where the magic had struck such a nerve, that was telling me not to be.

  “Fuck me again,” I growled, surprised at myself. The man who was now thrusting into me was still one of the fae and able to kill with just a brush of his fingertips. I should've been scared, but that little nagging bit inside of me wouldn't let me. Be strong, Georgette, it whispered softly as I wrapped my legs around Amadan's firm back and raised my hips to meet him.

  I thought I heard it say, the Gray Court needs you. Be strong, Georgette, I'm coming, but it was lost in the frenzied passion of my second orgasm.

  Welcome to the House of Gray and Graves where we never lie still and death is only the beginning …

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  NECROMANCER

  “A necromancer, also known to the fae as a faery doctor, is a magic user with a particular affinity for working with the dead. A necromancer's most important skills come from their ability to communicate and reanimate the dead, body or spirit. If the fae sense a human near one of the Veil's weak points, such as a faery ring, they may exert their powers to trap the human and drag them to the Other Place for proper training. Why this is done is still not entirely understood though some speculate that the fae use their pupils as a means of obtaining information from Above that they would otherwise not be privy to as most fae cannot cross the Veil without a human's help.”

  “What do you think they meant by unworthy?” I asked Amadan as I clipped together several hooks and eyes on the waist cincher that had been left for me on one of the many rose-patterned chaise lounges in the room. It was the color of a ripe peach, a yummy mixture of yellows and oranges and the only item that was actually opaque. The chiffon dress they had left to go with it was as form fitting as they came and did absolutely nothing to cover my breasts or the area between my legs. In fact, the only thing the outfit seemed to be doing was enhancing those two areas.

  I huffed once in frustration and glanced around for a pair of shoes. There weren't any.

  “A trick to get past the rules that bind them, I'm assuming. Perhaps a measure of safety left by Liadain for the first Gray, but I can't be sure. I've never heard of that particular phrasing before.” Amadan lifted his shoulders in a shrug. I sighed. Just another mystery to the add to the many that now permeated my mental journal. I was going to have to buy a real one when I got home, just to write down all the weird shit that was happening to me. Maybe it would make me feel better. Maybe not.

  “You can't be here when Corey comes in,” I said as casually as possible. I had no way of controlling Amadan's actions, but during sex he'd seemed willing to follow my instructions. Maybe that same willingness would carry over to the current situation.

  “Oh, I wouldn't dream of it,” he said with his mouth pulled back in a lewd grin. As if on cue, the door swung inward and I felt a brush of soft fur against my legs as Amadan retreated beneath the bed again. Corey stormed into the room as if expecting a fight. He wasn't going to get one. Amadan had thoroughly relieved my stress, at least for the moment, and I wasn't willing to engage.

  I smiled at his scowling face and tried to remember that not only had I just cheated on him, but that Aife hadn't trusted him enough to tell him the truth about what had happened. Corey paused, obviously confused at my change in attitude, before getting caught up in what I was wearing.

  “What's that?” he asked suspiciously. I rolled my eyes. Like I'd had a choice in the matter. I'd already checked the dresser drawers, but there weren't any other clothes in the room, save these.

  “Obviously something that was left for me to wear,” I said, trying to keep my temper in check. Some of my new found dominance was still pumping through my veins, but I tried to hold it back. Corey wouldn't understand. Corey wasn't used to a Georgette who stood up for herself. Maybe he'll have to get used to it. I smirked.

  “I asked Aife to leave you something a little more … conservative.” I glanced down at the waist cincher.

  “I think this is considered conservative here,” I said pointing at it. “I think wearing any type of clothing is considered conservative.” Corey smiled at my joke and swept me into a hug, his hands sliding down to cup my ass.

  “I'm glad you're not mad anymore, George. I knew you'd calm down with some time to think.” I kept my smile on my face though it was difficult. He was really starting to get on my nerves. Don't piss him off, Georgette, you need him. Who else is going to care if you stay a zombie forever? A frown tugged at the corners of my mouth. I tried to hold it back, but I was confused. My conscious was starting to sing two different tunes in the back of my head. One was the same old, whiny voice concerned more with self preservation than anything else and the other, the new one, was hard as iron, strong. I didn't understand it at all.

  “Master,” Elizabeth said, skipping into the room, petticoats awhirl. Corey released my ass with a start and turned to face her. Elizabeth glared at me from around his shoulder, periwinkle eyes sparking with loathing. Colette slumped in behind her, drool draining in a sticky waterfall from her chin onto her chest.

  “What?” he snapped, and I felt a tiny thrill of triumph as Elizabeth's face fell.

  “There's a faery in the hallway who says the Queen is ready to see you.” Corey squared his shoulders and turned to face me, holding out a hand.

  “Let's go, Georgette. It's time to hear the Queen's verdict.”

  “I am sorry,” Aife said, head flopped onto her left shoulder as she stroked a creature that looked like a cross between a pot bellied pig and a Chihuahua, all done up with neon pink stripes and jet black, wiry hair. “But I've given it some thought, and I just can't spare any members of my court. I could, perhaps, send you back with a small supply?” She smiled at Corey, and it was obvious from her facial expression that she still found him attractive. I bristled away in silence.

  “How much do you think you could spare?” Corey mused, rubbing his chin with one hand. We went through a lot of fae blood in our house; I doubted they could send us back with more than a month's supply. The idea of traveling back and forth between home and Faerie once a month gave me the chills.

  The Queen shrugged, sending her head flopping forward against her chest. She released the pig-Chihuahua and it leapt from her lap with a squeal, darting between Corey's legs and scampering out the Queen's bedroom door and down the marble hall.

  She'd decided to treat with us in her personal chambers: yet another baroque inspired setup with a magnificent four poster bed, ple
nty of cushy chaise lounges, and a chandelier that made the one in my temporary bedroom look miniscule. The whole room was done up in buttery yellows and creamy whites with plenty of naked tapestries of the Queen on display. I kept my eyes forward facing and waited for the perfect moment to ask about Rachel. I was more determined than ever to get her as our new donor. There was so much that I wanted to talk to her about.

  “How much do you need?” Aife asked, still smiling, as I tried to figure out what price she might ask of us. The Fae gave nothing away for free.

  Corey sighed and I could see he was doing quite a few calculations in his head.

  “W-what about … ” I stammered, suddenly losing my resolve as Elizabeth, Corey, Aife, and even Colette turned to look at me. “What about Rachel?” I pushed the words from my throat before I could stop myself and tried not to breathe a sigh of relief. Whatever happened, at least I'd gotten the courage to ask.

  “Rachel?” the Queen asked, adjusting her head so that it was sitting straight again. Her white eyes waited patiently for my answer.

  “Rachel is … ” Corey started, looking decidedly pissed off at me but trying to control his temper when addressing his former teacher and lover. “A banshee that Georgette recently discovered had returned here from Above.” Not returned, I wanted to say, not willingly anyway. She was kidnapped by the Unseelie.

  “Ah,” Aife exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “The rogue my sister was so concerned with. Well,” she paused again and shook out one of her wrists which had become characteristically floppy. “That certainly will not do. Scatach has no tolerance for disobedience. She will not let the girl go, not even for a price. There are so few banshee now; she would be loath to let even a single one of them go.”