2
MAEVE
Dora lunged at Blake, the knife held high and her face red with rage.
No.
I didn’t have time to think, to weigh up distance and timing the way Arthur had taught me. I saw that blade slice through the air as Dora propelled herself across the room and I hurled myself into its path.
“Maeve, no,” Blake yelled, but I couldn’t have stopped even if I wanted to. Luckily, all my physics studies did kick in and informed me that I’d foolishly aimed at for where my moving target was, and not where I expected her to be.
Instead of intercepting the knife, I crashed into the maid with all my weight behind me, sending her sprawling across the floor. Her arm sailed over my head, and in slow motion I watched it arc down, the tip of the blade aimed at my shoulder. Adrenaline surged in my body and my mind went completely blank. I couldn’t think of what to do except hold on to her and yell at the top of my lungs.
Then, suddenly, there was a flash of orange light. Dora’s fingers opened and the blade fell to the ground. Heat fared in front of me and I loosened my grip in surprise. Dora rolled away, her eyes bugging out and her hands frantically beating at a fire that spread across her skirt.
His damage done, Arthur wasted no time. He dragged Dora up by the scruff of her neck and held the palm of his hand to her face. “What the bloody hell are you doing?” he yelled. “If you don’t answer me right now I’m going to fry your ugly face.”
Dora twisted and squirmed in his grip, her hands raking at Arthur’s eyes. She yelled incoherently, thrashing and kicking like a wild animal. Arthur growled as her nails tore open his skin. Another flame burst from Dora’s collar, spreading quickly over the cheap fabric, reaching toward her face. Dora yelled and shrunk away, but she didn’t stop thrashing.
“Shite.” Corbin moved behind Dora, his own palm raised. The flame disappeared as Corbin sucked the air from around it, but Dora’s face went pale and her hands moved to clutch her throat as she struggled for breath.
Arthur shoved his hand over Dora’s face, his eyes blazing. I grabbed his arm over his shoulder, trying to yank it away from her. “Arthur, don’t hurt her.” I’d seen the guilt he wore behind his eyes from the last time he’d lost control and hurt someone. I didn’t want him to carry even more.
“Yeah, hold your fire,” Blake leaned onto his knees. “Look at her eyes. I know fae compulsion when I see it. She’s not doing this.”
“You will all die!” Dora screamed, finding her voice again.
I peered over Arthur’s shoulder, ducking as Dora made a swipe for my head. Blake was right; her eyes looked odd – not angry, but all glassy and unfocused. I noticed something else, too – a jerkiness to her movements, as though she was a puppet being tugged on invisible strings.
“He’s right,” I said, shaking Arthur’s shoulder. “Arthur, it’s not Dora doing this.”
“You can’t just believe everything that guy says.” Corbin was beside me in a flash, grabbing Dora’s flailing arms and pinning them behind her back.
“You weren’t awake when Daigh said he was going to compel someone to kill you all before you woke up,” I remembered now. “He must have been talking about Dora. She came in here expecting us to be asleep. It would’ve been easy for her to plunge that knife—”
“Steady on! I get it.” Arthur’s arm bulged. He eased his grip, letting Dora’s feet touch the floor again. He still kept a tight grip on her as she pummeled his chest with tiny fists. ”But why did she bring the roast?”
“Becauff compulffon ivna oooomp dime ontro,” Blake mumbled.
“What’s this twat talking about?” Arthur growled.
I glanced over at Blake. He’d picked up the roast lamb leg from where it had rolled under the sofa and was gnawing on it like a caveman. His whole face lit up with joy. He looked up at me, juice dribbling down his chin, and swallowed.
“Because compulsion isn’t complete mind control.” Blake tore off another chunk of meat and chewed. “The fae who’s inside her head has to push through layers and layers of her thoughts and memories and compulsions and habits. I take it she normally comes here and cooks these exquisite meaty delicacies?”
“Actually, I do,” Rowan said from the back of the room. He came around the couches and stood beside me. His dreadlocks brushed my arm as he peered into Dora’s face. “But she does like to come into the kitchen and fuss.”
Blake held up the half-gnawed leg. “If this is her fussing, then she’s welcome any time.”
Corbin pressed his shoulder into Dora’s back, holding her struggling body taut. “So how do we cure her?”
Blake shrugged. “You can’t, unless you kill the fae who’s compelling her. But most fae can’t hold the spell for more than thirty minutes or so. Just keep her away from any sharp objects until then. In this house that might be difficult.”
“Grab her waist, Arthur,” Corbin said. Arthur wrapped his arms around Dora, and the two of them wrestled her to the floor. Corbin pressed his knee into her back, pinning her down, while Arthur sat on her legs and clamped her wrists in place.
Desire flared in my body as I watched them. Is it wrong that heat pulsed between my legs as Arthur’s fingers circled her wrists? I wonder what it’s like to be pinned down, completely at their mercy…
Argh! This spirit magic was affecting me worse than ever. Before, when I was watching Blake, all I could think about was how good his cock felt sliding between my legs in my dreams. And that kiss… I rubbed my lip where the taste of him still lingered. I should have been afraid, but my whole body tingled, begging me for more.
“Can you give us a hand?” Corbin grunted at Blake as he pushed his weight against Dora’s back. My tongue wet my lip. Yes, please.
“I’m a little busy at the moment.” Blake licked fat and juices from his fingers.
“Busy finishing off our dinner,” Arthur mumbled.
Blake’s eyes lit up. “Does that mean we have to send out for food? Can we get curry? You have no idea how much I’ve been dreaming of curry—”
“Well, fiddle-de-dee for me.” Flynn raced into the room, a pair of now filthy babies bouncing in his arms. “I’m a genius. I’ve smeared the wee babies with fifth and the fuzz are on their way—” he stopped short as he noticed Arthur and Corbin sitting on top of Dora. “What in Mary Mother of Jesus is going on in here? Why is Dora on the floor and that fae bastard eating the roast?”
Dora bucked her body up, throwing Corbin backward. He slammed into Arthur, knocking them both off balance. Dora twisted around – surprisingly spry for a woman in her golden years – and grabbed the knife off the floor. She screamed as she thrust at Flynn’s leg.
This time, I froze completely, my heart leaping into my throat.
“Argh!” Flynn yanked his leg back, tucking the babies into his chest and wrapping one arm protectively around them. He shoved his other hand into Dora’s face, and let rip a great gush of water. Dora’s screeches turned to gurgles as she struggled against the stream.
“Hold her down,” Corbin yelled. He and Arthur flattened themselves against Dora’s body, pinning her again.
“Save the roast!” Blake yelled, holding the leg aloft and leaping out of the way as a jet of water slammed into the sofa behind him.
Once the guys had her down again, I forced my legs to move. I darted forward and kicked the knife across the floor, well out of reach.
“Let go of me, you foul witches,” Dora screamed. “The king will roast you alive. He’ll devour your entrails and… boys?”
All the venom left her voice, which wavered with fear over that single word.
“Is that you, Dora?” Corbin asked, bending down in an attempt to look at her eyes. He couldn’t see without loosening his hold on her. But I could. I crouched down and peered into Dora’s face. Her eyes were wide, terrified, filled with pain.
“My hip…” Her voice cracked. “I think I’ve damaged it. Please… let me up.”
Corbin looked unconvi
nced.
“It’s her.” I slid back onto my knees. “Let her go.”
Corbin and Arthur slid off Dora. Corbin placed his hands under Dora’s shoulders and lifted her up.
“I’m so sorry we had to do that,” he said. “You were having some kind of fit. You were saying strange things and you didn’t seem to know what you were doing—”
“I was not,” Dora said, her voice cracking. “I am in perfect control of my faculties, young man. And the fact you’re trying to pass this off as some kind of senior moment frankly demonstrates that harlot of yours has you totally under her spell.”
“Excuse me.” I folded my arms across my chest. “These are grown men who know their own minds. They aren’t under anyone’s spell and they don’t need a mother fussing and telling them what’s good for them. And who even uses the word harlot any more?”
Dora whirled around, her eyes flashing with anger as she zeroed in on me. She raised a trembling finger and waggled it in my face. “I had my doubts about her as soon as she showed up here with her filthy American accent and her loose morals. And now she’s got you involved in this horrid dark magic. I’m afraid for the sanctity of your souls.”
“I didn’t do this to you, Dora.”
“I see what you are,” Dora hissed at me, spittle collecting at the corners of her mouth. “I see the sin and depravity you have brought with you into this house. You have turned these boys from the glory of the Lord and enticed them into practicing satanic witchcraft. I saw the spell books you left open in the library. I saw the libations you poured in this room. I saw the disgusting—”
“Dora, that’s enough.” Corbin placed a hand on her shoulder. “Maeve is not a Satanist, and you need to get over this animosity because she’s going to be staying at Briarwood with us.”
Dora smoothed down the front of her charred dress, and rushed to the door. “I will not come back to this house again. Not until it is no longer a house of sin.”
With that, she spun on her heel again and stomped from the hall, slamming the door to the courtyard behind her.
Rowan slumped on the couch, rubbing his temples. “I really need a cup of tea.”
“I’ll put the kettle on,” Flynn said brightly, picking up the babies and heading to the kitchen.
“You know,” Blake munched on the last of the leg of roast. “The fae who was compelling Dora would have seen and heard everything in this room. He’ll go straight back to Daigh and tell him we’re still alive.”
“It could have been a she fae,” I said, rubbing my eyes. Why my inner feminist chose that moment to flare to life, I had no idea.
“No, it couldn’t. Feminism hasn’t exactly reached the fae realm. Only males are allowed to wield powers like compulsion.”
I slumped down beside Rowan, brushing his cheek with my hand. He jumped at my touch, but didn’t flinch away. His gaze was hollow, unfocused.
“Hey,” I stroked his soft skin, trying to pull him back from that dark place in his mind. “It’s going to be okay. We made it out of the fae realm, we got the babies back. Dora woke up from the spell. Everything more or less has turned out okay.”
He shook his head, his dreads falling over his shoulders. “No, it didn’t. You heard what Daigh said – they have a weapon ‘the likes of which we’ve never seen before.’”
“So? We know they’re talking about the Slaugh. We’ll stop them, the same way we stopped them from using the babies.”
Rowan nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. He took my hand in his and squeezed it.
Sirens sounded in the drive, and Rowan stiffened. Corbin ran to the window, watching the courtyard for signs of life. “I’ll do the talking. You guys just corroborate everything I said.”
“Fine with me,” Blake shrugged. “I’m going to go see what else is in the kitchen.”
Rowan turned to me, fixing me with a haunting gaze. He shook his head slowly, sadly, and a deep sense of unease settled in my gut. “I have a terrible feeling this nightmare has only just begun.”
3
MAEVE
“I’m never letting you go ever again, baby boy,” Jane cooed, wrapping her arms around Connor and squeezing him so hard he screeched in protest.
I didn’t blame her for holding him so tight. I’d met Jane a couple of days ago at her absolute worst. The fae had stolen Connor from his crib and she thought she’d lost her child forever, and because she’d seen the sprites just as they carried Connor through the nursery window, she believed she was going insane.
Despite the acerbic way she’d treated me on our first meeting, I couldn’t help but like her. Jane had a sharp tongue and a dry humor – so dry it was tough to tell when she was joking at all but for the hint of a sparkle in her light brown eyes. She had a kind of stoic practicality, which meant that she didn’t spend a lot of time having an existential crisis that fae existed (like I did) or that the guys and I were witches – she took it all in stride. None of it mattered as long as it helped her get Connor back.
And now here he was, wrapped in her arms, his tiny little fists flailing in the air. Jane’s face collapsed into a silly grin. She’d never looked happier.
Officer Judge, who’d driven Connor and I from Briarwood over to Jane’s cottage to deliver her son, leaned her stocky body against the crooked frame of the front door. She grinned. I guessed she didn’t get too many happy endings in cases like this.
Behind Officer Judge the night sky loomed, dark and oppressive. It was already past midnight. The police spent hours questioning us, going over every detail of our relationship with Jane and how Flynn found the babies. A SOCO team (that’s the British version of CSI, but I forgot what all the letters stood for) pawed over the area now, measuring tire tracks on the driveway and photographing every snapped twig. Nervous energy poured off all of us, but not because we were guilty – every moment we spent lying to the police was one more moment the gateway was open and vulnerable to egress by the fae. Who knew what Daigh’s soldiers might attempt in order to recapture me?
Finally, the police dismissed us and allowed me to ride along to return Connor. Hopefully by the time I returned to Briarwood the guys would have come up with a spell to shut off the gateway and prevent more fae entering our world.
“What happens now?” Jane asked, bouncing Connor in her arms. I’d texted her from the police car to tell her the story we were using, so she knew not to say anything about where we’d really been today.
“There will be a full investigation into your child’s disappearance and return,” Office Judge said, her hands falling awkwardly to her sides. “SOCO teams are collecting evidence, and we’re following up with a couple of leads. We may need you to come to the station later for a lineup or to answer further questions. In the meantime, there is nothing else you want to tell us? No ideas on who might have a grudge against you or Connor? No previous clients who—”
Jane’s head snapped up, her eyes flashing. “No.” she said, her voice firm. “I’ve told you before, I’m not in that business anymore. Connor and I pretty much keep to ourselves.”
The corners of Officer Judge’s thin mouth turned up. “Of course. Well, then, I’ll leave you and Connor in peace. It’s been a long night. Miss Crawford, I’ll need you to come to the station for some more questions.”
“It’s past midnight,” I said, a yawn fighting its way to my lips. I stifled it with my hand.
The boys need me back at the house. We have to get to the gateway and try to close it off. We have no idea how many fae already came through. But of course I couldn’t tell Officer Judge that.
“Guv’ner’s orders, I’m afraid. There are just a few points with your statement we’d like to follow up on, and in cases like this it’s much better to get these things done as soon as possible, while the memories are fresh in your mind.”
“Of course,” I shrugged. “I read somewhere that witness statements become significantly less reliable the more time elapses. Can I just have a few minutes with Jane?�
�
The officer frowned. Clearly she wasn’t supposed to let me hang around with Jane. I guess that made sense. Despite our best efforts to create a believable story – and Blake’s ability to speak into their minds that the police should believe us – we were probably suspects in the abduction. But one look at Jane’s face and she relented. “I’ll be back in here in sixty seconds.”
“Thank you.” I gave Officer Judge what I hoped was a friendly smile, but I was so tired it probably came out more like a grimace.
As soon as Officer Judge was out of sight, I wrapped my arms around Jane and Connor. Connor’s warmth pressed against my heart, and for the first time, I caught a whiff of that baby smell everyone talked about – that kind of milky sweetness that defied description but made your heart constrict.
He’s home. He’s safe. That’s all that matters.
“Thank you,” Jane whispered, her eyes not leaving Connor’s tiny face. “I can’t believe you did it. No, I lie. I can believe it. You’re something else, Maeve. You and those boys of yours.”
“I just hope we haven’t made more problems than we solved,” I whispered back. “Every moment that I’m here is another second that gateway lies wide open and the fae are able to pour into our world unchecked. Luckily only a few of them can come through, but a few fae are still capable of horrible things. When they find out we’re alive and that we have the babies, I don’t know what they’ll do.”
What my father will do. I shuddered at the thought.
“I want to help,” Jane snarled. “I want those fae to pay for this. I don’t want this to ever happen to another mother.”
“I don’t want to put you in danger. If you hang around with us, you’re going to be a target—”
“You said so yourself; they chose Connor specifically. I’m already a target. I’m doing this, Maeve. Don’t make me do it on my own.”
The Castle of Fire and Fable Page 2
