Perfect Storms (Storms of Blackwood Book 4)

by Elle Middaugh

  Ash smirked. "Joint rule, huh? I kinda like the sounds of that."

  "It would keep all of us from gaining too much power and from getting too arrogant." Criss stared thoughtfully ahead as we strolled down the snow-covered streets. "It would force us to work as a team and see situations from all angles."

  "It would be better for the people," Ash added. "It would keep things fairer."

  I nodded my agreement but allowed myself to get temporarily sidetracked. "Speaking of teams… what are the odds there’s a tattoo artist around here?"

  "Pretty good, I’d say." Ash pointed to a long line of storefronts on our left. One of which had a sign with those very words engraved on it.

  "Well, I’ll be damned," Criss muttered.

  "Talk about some weird fucking luck, huh?" Ash joked.

  I smiled brightly and grabbed both of their hands, tugging them inside. We couldn’t get one now—not without Rob, Cal, and Dan—but we could look at the artist’s work and get some ideas. A bell tinkled as the door shut behind us.

  All around the tiny room were framed illustrations, and in between those, loose paper drawings were tacked up like wallpaper, completely covering the wall underneath. There were sketches of people, animals, flora, objects, and buildings, of abstract art of eyes, shapes, feathers, skulls, and all sorts of other things. It was apparent that this artist had talent. He or she seemed to be able to draw just about anything.

  "Look at this one." Ash pointed to a skull with flowers growing through its eye sockets and mouth and swirling vines curling out around the bone.

  "It’s surprisingly beautiful," I admitted as we both admired it.

  "Or what about this?" Criss said, gesturing to another frame.

  It was a giant eye—perhaps that of a horse—but inside the pupil, like a reflection, was the head of a woman with snakes for hair. It was incredible.

  "Like what you see?" a smooth voice asked.

  I turned toward the sound and suddenly found myself face-to-face with a gorgon—a real-life woman with literal snakes for hair. The eye must’ve been a fucking self-portrait.

  I blinked back my surprise as quickly as I could. "Very much. Your work is amazing."

  She grinned, and her snakes hissed and slithered. "Thanks. I’ve been at it for a while now. When I was younger, some random guy told me my shit was terrible and that I’d never make a living off of art. So naturally, I proved him wrong."

  I liked this woman already.

  "Went one step further too." She held out her arms, which were covered in a motley mix of gorgeous tattoos. "I made my work permanent. Now every piece of art I make is practically eternal."

  The tattoos on her arms didn’t necessarily match, and I was pretty sure they’d been added at different times, but they blended together so seamlessly it was as if the design had been intentional all along.

  I grinned, marveling at her skill. "Do you think you could design us a custom tattoo? One that represents seven of us as a single, cohesive unit?"

  She smirked, and one of the snakes dipped down in front of her right eye. "Of course I can. I’ll just need some specific details."

  "Perfect!" I clasped my hands together, and we immediately got started.

  After a few minutes, Ash tapped my arm and pointed out the window.

  Handfuls of citizens were heading out into the mountains with saws and axes, preparing to start the blockade. Rob and the Vanderbon brothers, Malik and Peter, had apparently finished their meeting already.

  "We're running out of time," Ash muttered.

  And he was right. We needed to get back to our "Tia task" if we ever hoped to find her at all.

  Chapter 5

  After our visit to the tattooist, we continued questioning the people of Blackdell.

  The baker hadn’t heard of anyone named Tia, nor of any strange magic users residing nearby. The butcher, who didn’t seem to talk much at all, simply grunted and shook his head. The banshee teacher we’d seen earlier assured us that the Storm King had killed all the magic users—except for us—and therefore there probably weren’t any left.

  We walked the whole way to the edge of town where the community stables sat on the right and another tavern took up the left. This was it. The end of the line.

  "Let’s talk to the stable hands," Criss suggested optimistically. "I’m sure there are strangers who stop in there all the time. Maybe some of them carry news or gossip?"

  I nodded. It was certainly worth a try. "We’ll check the tavern across the street next for the exact same reason."

  Inside the barn, people of all different shapes and sizes were busy doing all sorts of different things—zombies shoveling shit into carts, humans spreading fresh hay, demons polishing saddles, vampires hammering horseshoes. Then there were those tending to the actual horses—feeding and watering them, brushing them, leading them to different stalls, and even taking them out back for a quick trot to stretch their legs.

  I broke away from Ash and Criss and followed a banshee woman leading a horse to a stall.

  "Hello," I said sweetly.

  "Your Highness," she replied casually with a quick curtsey, never loosening her hold on the reins. "To what do I owe the honor?"

  I glanced at Ash and Criss from the corner of my eye, pleased to find they’d done the same and engaged a couple other stable hands in conversation.

  "I just wondered if you ever heard any rumors from passersby."

  "Rumors?" she asked, quirking a white, semitransparent brow at me. "That’s a bit of a broad question, Highness. There are always rumors circulating about this or that. I don’t put much stock in them though."

  I chuckled breathily. "Yeah, I suppose that wasn’t very specific. What I meant was, have you heard anything about a magic user? Perhaps one that lives nearby? Or one that may have passed through a number of years ago?"

  She led the horse into its designated stall and removed its harness, stroking its long face softly. "There are always whispers of magic users fleeing the wicked king. But none of them have ever come through here. And as far as I know, none of them have ever truly escaped. They’ve always been found and killed."

  My smile drooped as I hit yet another dead end. I needed something, one little bit of information that might help me take the next step in locating our missing princess.

  "Did any of them ever say where they planned on going?" I asked her. "The escapees. Did they have a destination in mind? A safe place where they could live in peace if they could only just reach it?"

  She chuckled mirthlessly. "Nowhere in the world is safe from the king. Even foreign countries hold his spies. One way or another, he always finds out."

  My stomach dropped like a sack of rocks. Gemma. Was she in danger after all? Had we celebrated too soon? Was the Storm King on her trail? Had he captured her already? My heart was suddenly pounding a mile a minute as my mind raced with terrifying possibilities.

  I licked my suddenly dry lips. "What about… alicorns?"

  These were horse people. Maybe they at least knew something about the creature I’d met at the base of the mountain. It seemed significant, even if it truly wasn’t.

  "Alicorns are extinct," she said softly, as if I were a naïve child.

  "They’re not. We saved one in Wessea and set it free."

  The banshee stared at me, her gaze hard despite being see-through. "Then you freed the only one left. You’ve done a great deed, Your Highness."

  "Do you know of any alicorns living around here?"

  She sighed rather impatiently. "I already told you, alicorns are all but extinct. I have never seen one with my own eyes."

  I pondered her words. "I just saw one this morning, right outside Blackdell at the base of a mountain."

  She grabbed a brush and stroked her horse’s chestnut coat. "Then it must have been the one you saved from before. Alicorns were fabled to be drawn to magic, so it would make sense if it had followed you here. Perhaps you formed a bond with it?"

  I had to a
dmit, that was my initial thought too. Still, I was hoping it was a different one, one that belonged to a mountain witch or something that was actually Tia in disguise.

  I shook my head and gazed through the big barn doors at the back. Outside, Chrissen trailed after a vampire who was taking her horse for a walk. But beyond them, standing on the ridge of a small hillock, was the alicorn. White as snow, pure as a freaking angel, and staring at me with patient, intelligent eyes. It was like those eyes were magnified, huge and unblinking, despite our distance.

  "There!" I shouted excitedly, pointing outside.

  The banshee shielded her eyes and followed my finger to where it led to… nothing. The alicorn on the ridge was suddenly gone. Damn it! I wasn’t seeing things. The freaking thing was there!

  With another condescending smile, the banshee shook her head. "I don’t see anything, Your Highness. Unless you believe Cara’s horse is an alicorn?"

  Cara must’ve been the vamp Chrissen was questioning.

  I rolled my eyes and exited the stall, closing the wooden gate behind me. "Thanks for chatting with me…" I trailed off, waiting for her to fill in her name.

  "Irielle."

  "Thank you, Irielle."

  With that, I strode back to the front of the barn and waited on my guys to finish up. A few minutes later, the three of us were crossing the street to get to the tavern. It was a big structure, easily three stories high, and it was made of fine-cut wood stained to a rich perfection. The wood planks had been hammered in diagonally, giving the building a unique and artistic appearance while somehow allowing it to keep a simple, small-town air.

  "Do you believe me?" I asked Ash and Criss as we neared the tavern's front door.

  "About what?" Ash asked.

  "About the alicorn I saw this morning."

  Criss’s brows furrowed. "Yeah, why wouldn’t we?"

  I shrugged. "Because you didn’t see it."

  "We know it exists, Sweets," Ash said with a grin. "We were there in Western Blackwood when you found that alicorn in the woods."

  "Do you think it was the same one?" I asked as Criss opened the door and gestured for Asher and me to enter before him.

  "Possibly," Ash admitted. "Did it look the same?"

  I sniffed out a laugh. "I mean… yeah? Pure white coat and wings. Glittery silver hooves and horn. Big intelligent eyes…"

  Ash nodded at my words. He steered us toward a table that was empty but still close enough to the locals that we could engage them in conversation if we wanted. As we all sat, he ruffled his sandy hair and sighed. "What if it’s a different alicorn? What are you thinking?"

  "I don’t know." I glanced at Criss who looked curious but not doubtful. "I guess I was just hoping it might somehow lead us to Tia. It acted like it wanted me to follow it."

  Criss pursed his lips in thought. "If it’s the same alicorn, maybe it just wants to be close to you. You saved it. A bond would be natural."

  Ash nodded. "And if it’s a different alicorn, and it really does want you to follow it, then after the blockade is finished, maybe we can see where it leads?"

  My hopes rose as high as my eyebrows. "Really?"

  Ash grinned. "Yeah, of course. You promised Rob you wouldn’t leave Blackdell today. But I don’t see why he’d mind taking a quick side trip once the wall is in place."

  "Uh, I do." I crossed my arms atop the glossy wooden table. "He hates Tia. He has no desire to find her. And he thinks this whole thing is a stupid idea."

  "Yeah, but his main concern is protecting you," Criss said, leaning back casually in his chair. "I think he’d tag along just to make sure you stay safe."

  I closed my eyes and shook my head, feeling tension crawl along my limbs. "He acts like I don’t have powers myself. Like I’m not a badass with an ax. Like I’m some damsel that needs saving."

  Ash smiled warmly. "He loves you, Sweets. His desire to protect you has nothing to do with your skills and capabilities. I mean, you know we’re badass as fuck, but you still worry about us, don’t you?"

  Damn. He had a point.

  "Look," Criss said easily, "let’s just question a few more locals, and after we’re done here, we’ll go help with the blockade. The sooner it’s built, the sooner we can follow your alicorn and continue looking for Tia."

  I smiled at him, delving deep into his twinkling hazel eyes. Adding him to the group was such a good idea. He just fit so seamlessly.

  Criss smiled back at me and rose from his seat. "I’ll go order us some drinks and chat with the bartender, while you two make small talk with your table neighbors."

  Ash turned to me and cocked his head, like “here we go.”

  "Hey, guys," he said, waving at the table next to ours. It was occupied by four men in heavy fur coats. They looked like they worked outside for a living and were just here on a lunch break.

  "Hello," one of them said, as the other three nodded their greeting.

  "How's it going?"

  They shrugged.

  "Not bad," one of them replied.

  "Cold as a witch's tit," another added.

  The third man laughed. "So, not any different than usual, eh?"

  Ash's eyes lit up. "Speaking of witches... I heard rumors that a magical woman traveled south about thirty years ago. Ever see any signs of her? Or hear about any strange happenings?"

  They chuckled almost nervously but shook their heads.

  "I'd swear I saw an alicorn around here," I admitted, hoping that if I opened up, they would too.

  "Never saw an alicorn in my life, miss," the first guy told me. "Nor have I seen a witch. Sorry."

  The other two nodded their agreement, but the fourth guy... he looked hesitant, conflicted.

  Ash sighed dramatically. "Ah, just as well. I've heard that only the rarest of people can sense magic at all. You must be one in a million." He winked at me, while I put on a forlorn face.

  The fourth guy cleared his throat. "I may have seen something witchy once, when I was a small boy, helping my father in the woods."

  My smile widened. "Are you serious? You're a special, rare person too?"

  He blushed and shrugged a single shoulder. "I don't know. Maybe?"

  I leaned in closer. "What did you see?"

  He pursed his lips and rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing really. I just thought I saw an old, rotting cottage amongst the trees. When I asked my dad about it, he said he saw nothing. He told me it must've belonged to a mountain witch who'd spelled the place. I think he was mostly joking since he laughed afterward, but I never did see the cottage again, and I've been all over those woods in my twenty-five years."

  "Fascinating," I muttered with starry eyes. "A real-life mountain witch. Which part of the woods were you in?"

  "Yeah, Franz," one of his friends teased, "where was this make-believe witch and her disappearing cottage?"

  Franz blushed some more and brushed a hand into the air, vaguely pointing in a random direction. "Just somewhere in the forest. It was probably my young and imaginative eyes playing tricks on me."

  "Of course it was." The third man chuckled, bringing a mug of ale up to his lips. "Witches..."

  I raised a brow. I didn't understand why it was perfectly acceptable to live amongst vampires, demons, banshees, and gods only knew what else and somehow not believe in witches.

  I shook my head and turned back to Ash.

  "Well, thanks for the story, gentlemen," Ash said, preparing to end our conversation. "Stay safe out there."

  "Will do," the first guy replied, raising his mug to us. "Can never be too careful with those mountain witches around."

  Poor Franz was going to turn permanently pink if they didn't stop teasing him.

  "Real or not, I loved your story, Franz," I told him with a smile. "The idea of magic is simply fascinating to me."

  He smiled and nodded at me, still seemingly too embarrassed to speak, and I turned around.

  Criss was just sitting down at our table with three mugs. "Beer for t
he boys, and wine for our lovely lady."

  I grinned and took my cup. "Why, thank you, kind sir. Any news from the bartender?"

  Criss shook his head. "Nothing. Any news from our tablemates?"

  Ash and I filled him in on Franz's little tale, and as we drank, we debated the plausibility of there being any truth to it. Even if it was true, we were no closer to knowing where to look. It made me feel hopeful and frustrated all at once.

  It was late afternoon by the time we met up with Rob and the others in the woods.

  This far south, there really weren’t many forests, just patches here and there scattered at the base of the mountains. So, basically, it had taken us a little while to find them. At least the snow made sure they left obvious footprints behind them.

  Glimpsing through the tall tree trunks, I saw Rob, shirtless and glistening in sweat, hacking away at one of the rare oaks that had grown up amongst the pines and evergreens. Around him, men and women were sawing at fallen trees, removing any excess branches and removing the tops. Others were tying up the logs and hitching them to teams of horses ready to haul the load into town.

  "He must’ve really gotten used to the cold," I muttered, admiring Rob's lusciously tattooed body. Even under all the ink, it was obvious how ripped he was.

  I hugged my arms to my chest, feeling both hot and cold at the same time. Hot, because hello, it was Rob. And cold because it was freezing out, and I felt chilly just looking at him.

  Ash and Criss chuckled, which caught Rob’s attention, making him pause midswing. He turned to us and cocked a sexy brow up toward the sky. "About time you three showed up."

  Cal crested the top of a hill, and I was stunned to find that he too was shirtless and sweating.

  Gods almighty, if I could just run my hands up those washboard abs…

  "How are you two not freezing to death?" Criss asked, sounding astounded.

  "Yeah," Ash chimed in, grinning cheekily, "you ought to be a couple of snowmen by now."

  "Let’s not mention the word snowman so soon after the disaster of yesterday," Rob commented dryly, dropping his ax to the ground. The handle remained upright due to the weight of the head. "Turns out, whenever you’re actually doing hard work, you tend to get hot."