“Hush, little one. Things will get better soon. You’ll see.” He sank to the ground, taking me onto his lap. I was so cold and shaken, I accepted what relief I could. He pulled open the hoodie, wrapped me in it with him, and positioned his long legs so my bare ones could pull from his warmth.
My tears broke free again. It was the second time I’d cried like a baby in his arms, and my pride was M.I.A. He might have been a jerk, but that jerk was all that stood between me and the unknown at the moment, and I’d take what I could get. When my shivers finally subsided, I tried pulling back but he held me close.
“I’m all right now,” I mumbled.
“We need to stay close, so we don’t freeze.”
Hypothermia wasn’t appealing, but I didn’t want to remain on his lap. “I’ll sit next to you.”
He sighed and relented. I was sorry I insisted when my rear end and legs hit the cold ground, but I had to go through with it. Trying to hide a shudder, I scooted next to him, and attempted to distract myself by stargazing. The constellations seemed familiar, but wrong, somehow. It took me a moment to realize that they were all backwards, as if I were viewing them from another angle. A shooting start caught my attention and I pointed. “Look, make a wish,” I said.
He chuckled and I felt it vibrate against my arm. “I’ll be glad if it is only a star and not something else trying to kill us.”
I conceded that was a good wish. However, since he’d used that one, I squeezed my eyes shut and wished as hard as I could.
Chapter Seven
A s the first blushes of dawn painted the sky, we made our way toward what Puck said would be a city coming up “any time now.”
Neither of us mentioned how we’d awakened in each other’s arms, my chest pressed to his, and his morning wood pressed to my … well, let’s just say there was still a little tingle when it crossed my mind. Which had been far too often for my liking in the past several hours.
We finally reached a point where the sun shone brilliantly in the mid-sky, and, judging by the vivid colors and grass dotting the landscape, we were far from the Shivering Woods and the place we’d spent the night.
“How is it that it’s so warm here when it felt like winter back there?” I asked, adjusting the hoodie tied around my waist. He’d given it to me when I’d left his lap last night.
He shrugged, the movement highlighting the muscles of his shoulders. I tried to not appreciate the full view of him in slim-fitting black jeans and t-shirt. We’d been so busy running for our lives the day and night before that I hadn’t paid close attention. Now it was all I could see. To distract myself, I asked questions.
“What, you don’t know?”
He sighed. “We’re in Faerie. Things don’t work the same as in your world. I could ask you why you have warm winters in some areas and cold in others. Or how it can be hot or cold within a few miles of each other in your land.”
I opened then closed my mouth. I knew the general answers to those questions, but decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. He was right; it was what it was.
Instead of questioning the science—or magic—of it, I focused on the beauty. Because where we travelled was beautiful. The grass was emerald—not just in color, but in sparkling richness, as well. Flowers of various sizes and colors popped out here and there, some looking like spun glass, and the different trees had bark in all shades of the rainbow. Unaccountably happy, I hummed “What a Wonderful World” and Puck cast me a bemused glance.
Grinning, I asked, “Are we there yet?”
His astonished expression made me grin harder and he shook his head. “Do you see a city about you?” he asked.
“What about now?” I replied. When he kept staring as if I’d grown two heads, I scoffed and said, “Oh, never mind.”
He didn’t respond, but his eyes continued to question my sanity. “Perhaps you need food,” he suggested.
“That would be great, except I don’t want to be stuck here forever. Is there anything safe to eat?”
He pointed toward a fruit-bearing tree. At least, I thought it was fruit. It didn’t look like any I recognized, but the large purple globes tucked in among the bright green leaves seemed edible.
“What are those?”
“Zoberries. They will sustain us until we reach the city.”
“Which is when, again?”
“Soon.”
Right. “You know, your perception of time and mine are very different.”
“Only natural, considering fae outlive humans by thousands of years.”
How could I have forgotten that bit of lore? “Just how old are you, anyway? You look late-twenties to me.”
His laughter sent butterfly-looking creatures scattering into the air in a dazzling display of color. It took my breath away. The butterflies, not his appealing laughter. The butterflies in the sky, not the ones in my stomach.
He tweaked my nose. “You are delightful.”
Smacking his hand away, I grumbled with less heat than intended. “Wish I could say the same for you.”
He took the hand I’d swiped at him and began to walk, humming a tune of his own. Once more unaccountably content, I went along. The bright warmth of the sun and beautiful landscape had a calming effect. So much so, that I began to wonder if it were intentional—maybe to lure unwary travelers to something less cheerful.
“Umn, Puck … are we supposed to be content in this place? I mean, is it setting us up for a fall?”
He chuckled softly. “No. It’s just the company that’s making you happy.”
I pulled my hand free of his. “You wish. I still haven’t forgiven you for all those years.”
His expression seemed genuinely sad, and I had a flashback of him stuck to the tree in the Shivering Woods, which left me feeling a bit guilty. What had affected him so? What had his life been like in Faerie?
I chanced the question. “What did you see in the Shivering Woods?”
Instant ice. His glare could have killed me on the spot. “Why would you ask?”
“It’s just I know nothing about you, and you seemed so ….” My voice trailed as I remembered how bad it was there. Contrite, I said, “I shouldn’t have asked you about that. I’m sorry.”
He flinched from the hand I stretched out and then just as quickly took it in his own, smiling. The rapidness of deadly anger to flirty warmth jarred my senses and pealed warning bells throughout my brain.
“I’ll forgive you,” he said. “If you can help me get some of those zoberries.”
The warning bells in my brain converted to sirens. The pink-barked tree with its bright green leaves and purple, baseball-sized berries looked as charming as a Dr. Seuss tree. But, given our experience with trees thus far, was probably more like something from the isle of Dr. Moreau.
“And, umn, how are we going to pick them?”
“I’ll try asking first. If they don’t respond, you force them.”
My pilfered sandals skidded in the grass, and I shook my head. “No. No way.”
His grin would have made a crocodile proud. “Relax. Zoberry trees aren’t nearly as deadly as the shivering pines.”
Not nearly? Even a smidge was too much for me. I just hoped his usual charm won the tree over. Otherwise, I had a feeling we’d be running for our lives again.
That sick feeling in my stomach pushed back the hunger as the berries rustled above us. “You know, I can probably wait to eat since you said the town is close. What was the name of the place again? Conway?”
“Connleath,” he answered dryly. “Be quiet while I speak to the tree.”
I could be quiet. See me being quiet as a mouse over here. A mouse facing a huge, deadly cat that looked like a pretty tree. I choked on a bit of saliva, and Puck frowned at me. Miming locking my lips, I took a few steps back while he did his thing.
He sauntered next to the tree, cooing how pretty it looked, his long fingers gently caressing the ridges of the pale pink bark. As he lightly stroked a fingertip throug
h one of its furrows, the tree responded with a shiver and so did I.
‘That charm is lethal,’ I reminded myself, as the sight of his finger running gently through the pink grooves caused similar-looking places on me to tingle. For crying out loud, even the tree dropped her panties—I mean fruit—for him.
I asked irritably, “Why couldn’t you have done that last night?”
His lashes fluttered. “You wanted me to tickle your grooves?”
I jerked the hoodie from my waist and avoided his gaze. “I meant get the other tree to give us some branches,” I groused as I stuffed fallen zoberries into the hoodie.
A wide shoulder lifted. “That other tree was male.”
I threw one of the purple globes toward his head, but I was the one who was smacked down. By the tree. Which had also flicked a branch at my backside and sent me scurrying to safety.
“Don’t mind her, my beauty,” Puck crooned at the tree. “She’s just jealous. We do appreciate your generosity.” He bowed with a flourish in the tree’s direction and a few more berries fell softly before him. He thanked the tree once more then came to plop the fruit into the hood of the sweatshirt.
“And that’s how it’s done.” His cocky grin disappeared as he took a big bite of zoberry.
Sighing, I followed his lead.
The berries were long gone and my face sticky with juice by the time we saw buildings silhouetted on the horizon. Puck tried to convince me that he’d been correct in his “soon” evaluation and I rolled my eyes. I didn’t know what time it was, but it felt we’d been travelling for hours. I would have killed for some well-fitting shoes.
The weirdly changing landscape also messed with my sense of time. I felt like I’d been through several time zones and climates when we reached the city, which looked like old images of London to me. When I mentioned the resemblance, Puck’s explanation both shocked and amused me.
“It’s because some fae entertain themselves by going through phases of copying different forms of human architecture.”
“Whatever for?”
“Half mockery, half city-wide fashion statement, I suppose,” he said, shrugging. He gestured broadly. “Twenty years ago, this area of Faerie committed completely to ancient Egyptian architecture, but with more pyramids, some of which were built sideways, or upside down.”
He laughed at my gaping mouth. “Now, the fad is the city of London in the 1800s. Hard to say what will come after that.”
I shook my head in wonder and disbelief, deciding it was actually kind of cool. I supposed if you had nearly all the time in the world on your hands, this might be a fun way to pass it. I spun, taking in all the sights.
“Much as I’m pleased to show you around, love, we’d best find someplace to bathe, a spare set of clothes, and more food to last the rest of our journey.”
I couldn’t argue with that. We passed several outdoor market stalls and indoor taverns, but Puck refused them all.
“Can’t you just pick a place?” I grumbled, the zoberries long worn off.
“No coin now, seeing as how I left home in a hurry. I need to find a likely target.” He steered us into a narrow, cobblestone alley, plucked a banner from a darkened storefront, and swiftly crafted a cloak from the fabric. He pulled the hood over his head before stepping out the other side of the alley.
“What did you do that for?”
“We’re nearing the gambling halls. I may or may not have made a few enemies over a game of cards.”
I groaned. When would the trouble end? Probably never, I thought as we made our way through a black door into what looked – and smelled – like a butcher’s shop, but had a few small tables set up near the front. It made me think of a delicatessen. An old, poorly lit, creepy delicatessen that wouldn’t have been out of place in some dark, steampunk cosplay. A large, green, and lumpy looking creature, wearing a butcher’s apron stood behind a dusty counter. I assumed it was male though I had no reason to do so – just something about the deep, guttural greeting, its huge size and the way its red tongue shot out of its mouth and licked around its tusks when it looked at me. Then again, that leer might have merely meant I looked like food. Or that regardless of its gender, it preferred females, either for sex or dinner. I moved closer to Puck while he negotiated with the proprietor.
After several tense moments of haggling—most of which I didn’t hear because I was busy checking out the surroundings—the big lump behind the counter smashed a beefy fist on the wood, and I jumped at the sound. Puck informed me the bargain was struck.
“What bargain?”
“A game of cards. If I win, we get a meal and all the coin in the butcher’s pockets.”
“And if you lose?”
“I won’t lose.”
“But if you do?”
He pinched my cheek lightly. “Don’t worry. I never lose.”
“What happens if you lose?” My voice rose several decibels. I didn’t like the way the butcher looked at me.
Puck shuffled us over to one of the empty tables while our host slammed a pack of cards onto it, then emptied gold coins from his apron pocket. They clinked on the marble, and all the while, his bright black eyes roamed over me like I was a juicy prize.
I tugged hard on Puck’s shirt, whispering harshly. “Tell me right now what happens if you lose?”
A nonchalant shrug. “He gets to keep you.”
I tripped over the chair slung my way as I tried to run toward the door. Puck’s arm shot out and he pulled me into the chair beside him while the butcher laughed.
“Don’t move again, Meghan,” Puck warned. In a softer whisper meant for my ears, he said, “Trust me.”
I swallowed and kept my eyes busy watching Puck, the ogre (as I now thought of it), and the door. I paid such careful attention that I noticed how Puck would lose almost every round where he shuffled the cards—sending my heart into my throat—then win again every time the ogre shuffled. It didn’t take me long to catch on after that. Thankfully, our ugly green host didn’t.
Or maybe he did. “You cheat!” he growled when Puck won the final round.
“Don’t blame me. You dealt this hand,” Puck replied.
The butcher tossed the table and I screamed.
Puck flipped it back up. “I won fairly. Now pay what you owe me. Unless you wish to be in my debt?” Though Puck spoke lightly, the hint of threat was unmistakable.
The butcher snarled and stomped toward the display counter. Just before reaching it, he turned and gave what I thought might be a smile. “I cook food for you, instead.”
“Good deal,” Puck nodded.
“Quickly, gather the coins,” he whispered when our host disappeared through the swinging door behind the counter.
I would have spoken, but he put a finger to his lip and shook his head. Heart tripping, I hurried to pocket the fallen gold while he sneaked behind the display counter and began stuffing bread, vegetables, and cold meats into his cloak. A crash from the rear of the shop sent the pulse in my throat leaping, and I glanced back.
Puck ran toward me as the butcher came roaring through the swinging door, wielding a giant meat cleaver.
Chapter Eight
T hat was too close. I quickly tried to rustle some spark from my fingertips, but Puck was already on it, blasting winds that sent the table and chairs flying at the Shrek lookalike, which only made it angrier.
“Cheats! Thieves!” The butcher threw the cleaver and I screamed as it embedded into the wall just inches from my head.
“You lost, troll. Honor your bargain!” Puck grabbed potatoes out of his cloak and sent them flying under the butcher’s feet. The creature toppled to the floor with a loud thud.
Puck grabbed my wrist and ran for the front door, palm outstretched to blast it open, while the shop owner struggled to rise to his feet.
We’d made it several yards down the dark alley before the butcher stumbled out in pursuit, heavy steps pounding on the cobblestones. Through one alley after another
we ran, ducking through front doors of shops and exiting out the back, and finally into a cleaner, brighter street, where we caught our breath, having outrun our unhappy enemy.
Puck’s laughter was infectious, even if logically, the situation wasn’t funny. But inappropriate laughter had always been my thing, getting me in trouble in multiple situations. We made our way through to a small park area and used his cloak to spread out an impromptu picnic.
“Sorry about the lack of potatoes,” Puck said, and I giggled.
“Nice shot.” I glanced about the park before tearing off a piece of bread. “Do you think it will find us? And what was that thing, anyway? You called it a troll.”
He nodded, chewing a bit of turkey leg. At least, I assumed it was turkey. A large drumstick of something, anyway. “Part troll. Not sure about the rest. Maybe ogre.”
“I thought he looked a little like Shrek.”
“Who?”
“Never mind. How were you able to cheat? Wouldn’t other fae notice that sort of thing? I mean, it was obvious to me.”
He held a roasted carrot to my lips, and I took a bite, savoring the sweet and smoky flavor.
“Trolls have poor eyesight and hearing, and are notoriously stupid,” he said, watching my lips as I chewed. “Cross that with an ogre, and you have a slow, grumpy git who’s crap at cards.”
I laughed, feeling a little guilty as I did. “But doesn’t that mean we took unfair advantage?”
“Feeling sorry for him?”
I shrugged and he snorted.
“Would you’d rather have wound up as his lunch? Or sliced into sandwiches for his customers? There are many fae who find human meat delicious.” He leaned in and sniffed my neck. I shoved him off and he grinned, unrepentant.
“How … how many?”
A casual shrug. “A fair few. A waste, really. I find there are better ways to enjoy human flesh.”
His bright gaze roaming over my body let me guess the ways in which he enjoyed it. I remembered how his hands had stroked the zoberry tree, and I blushed at the memory.
Leave it to Fate Page 5
