Wickedly Ever After

by Tegan Maher

  Both brothers looked appalled. “Nein.”

  Somebody coughed behind me, and I turned to find Ari looking at me, arms crossed and brow raised. He motioned for me to come over.

  “Have you ever read their original work?” he asked.

  “Well, no. But didn’t they write the original story?”

  He shook his head. “They wrote a version of it. Theirs doesn’t feature anything quite so happy as chirping birds and fairy godmothers. Theirs is a bit ... darker. And like I said, the story you know didn’t take place here, though I have it on good authority that it’s not far off the mark.”

  “Oh,” I said, shrugging. “My bad, then.”

  He smiled. “It’s a common misconception. C’mon. I want to show you some awesome pieces of art we’ve salvaged over the years.”

  Colin and Tempest joined us, and we spent the rest of the day looking at long-lost art and touring the city’s vineyards. I even talked him out of a case of the champagne they’d served at the feast. I figured a few bottles would make great Christmas gifts.

  Oh, who was I kidding? I wasn’t giving any of that stuff away. That would go into my private stash.

  I’d been fretting over something all day, and finally just took my standard approach and asked him.

  “Did I mess the timeline up? Is everything going to be okay when we go home?” And I didn’t mean just my personal life. I was worried I’d screwed up so badly that we were still owned by England and Spain or something.

  “Everything’s fine. This time.” He gave me a stern look. “Turns out, Alexander was going to die of something he’d contracted from one of his ... uh, girlfriends in just a few years. Endeara would have taken the kingdom and put Ella on the throne, anyway. We just pushed the process ahead by a few years.”

  “That makes me feel better. And I learned my lesson, too.”

  “Good, because you’re welcome to come back next year if you can keep yourself under control.”

  “No worries there,” I said. I made a lot of mistakes, but I tried to never make the same one twice. It didn’t always work, but I had a decent ratio.

  We ended the day back at the castle, where Endeara and the girls were getting ready to leave. Ella was dressed in gown that rivaled that of her stepsisters, and though they looked a little salty, Endeara and Ella were glowing.

  “So what now?” I asked.

  Endeara gave me a smug smile. “Now we go back and storm Ella’s castle. Get her on the throne, where she belongs.”

  Ella stepped forward and gave me a hug. “Thank you so much ... for everything!”

  “Are you excited to become a queen?” I asked.

  She blushed. “I’m terrified, but Endeara’s going to be there to help guide me until I learn how to run a kingdom on my own.”

  I couldn’t help but notice the glares her stepsisters were casting her direction, but I figured they’d get over it or Ella would put them in their place. It took serious nerve to show up at that ball—in a gown she’d swiped from her Endeara’s closet, no less—-and I had no doubt she was made of stiffer stuff than I’d originally figured.

  “What about you?” Endeara asked. “What’s next for you?”

  “I’m heading back to paradise,” I said. “I have a bag of candy corn with my name on it.”

  She tilted her head and smiled. “I don’t know what this candy corn is, but I thought we were in paradise.”

  I smiled as I took Colin’s hand and helped Tempest to my shoulder. She was still a little stiff from all the excitement. “That’s because you’ve never been to the Enchanted Coast.”

  Ari laid a hand on our shoulders, and before I could blink, we were standing outside the tiki hut. I dug my toes into the white sand and turned my face up to the blue sky as the cry of seagulls reached my ears.

  And we lived happily ever after, at least until the next body turned up.

  Thank you!

  The Enchanted Coast is one of my favorite places on earth. Destiny, like me, loves the white-sand beaches and the year-round sunshine at her little slice of paradise. I hope you enjoyed this novella, and if you haven’t read the rest of the series, I invite you to start with book 1 – The Deadly Daiquiri. I’ve included the first chapter for you to sample.

  Thank you for joining me on another adventure, and I look forward to seeing you next time!

  Tegan ☺

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  The Deadly Daiquiri – Chapter 1

  CHAPTER ONE

  "STAN, WHAT HAVE I TOLD you about bringing the Cupid's bow into the bar? And adjust your diaper. None of us want to see what's under that."

  I heaved a sigh of exasperation. I loved my job, but sometimes I felt more like a babysitter at a daycare center than a cocktail waitress at a magical beach resort.

  He scowled as he reached for his margarita. "It's a loincloth. And what do you want me to do—leave my bow and arrows in my room? They won't fit in the safe."

  Cyri, the faerie sitting one table over, turned to look at him. "That's easy enough to fix," she said, adjusting her lavender ponytail. She dipped her finger into a waterproof pouch hanging from the pink lanyard around her neck, then sprinkled a small pinch of sparkling dust over the bow and quiver.

  Stan watched in fascinated horror as the tool of his trade shrunk to a tenth of its size. "You can't just do that," he said, indignant. "What if I get called out to a job?"

  She snorted. "That's like your fourth margarita. You're in no condition to fly, anyway. And I've only been with Aiden a few months. It would be a disaster if he accidentally knicked himself with one of those arrows on his way to the bathroom. I'm not ready for the whole L-word scenario."

  I smiled as I walked away. Stan was in the middle of an existential crisis. His problem was that he was a romantic at heart, and his job wasn't just a job to him—it was his passion. Between the free-love movement and easy, DIY divorces, he was having a hard time believing he hadn't outlived his purpose.

  So, he was on an extended vacation to find himself and decide whether or not he should retire. But just because I felt sorry for the guy didn't mean I could give him a pass on the bow. Can you imagine how the I love you, man phase of intoxication works when a cupid wants to make the whole bar happy at closing time? Yeah, no love-laced arrows allowed.

  I delivered the last drinks on my tray to a group of sunbathing selkies that were regulars, thinking how hot their seal-skin beach blankets must be. Before you get upset about animal cruelty, selkies are seals in the water, but shed their skins to become human on land.

  I couldn't blame them for keeping them secure though. Julius, their leader, had left his skin unattended at the bar when he'd gone to the bathroom a few years ago, and we’d had to lock down the whole resort for a couple hours.

  A beach attendant had mistakenly picked it up and thrown it into the laundry, and since I'd been the one to call for the lock-down and the one to find it, he'd granted me honorary membership in his pod. In short, when they came every few months, they requested me, and they always tipped generously. It was job security, but it made me feel good, too.

  Angie, Julius's wife, passed the martinis down the row, taking a sip from the last one.

  "Divine as always," she said, licking the vodka mustache off her upper lip. "Tell Bob he used just the right amount of anchovy juice."

  I bit back a shudder at the phantom flavor and as
sured her I would. As I picked my way through the tables back to the shade of the tiki bar, I picked up a few more drink orders along the way.

  Plunking my tray down on the server's deck at the bar, I leaned over and rested my chin in my hand while I waited for Bob, the Bigfoot bartender, to finish telling a joke to a broody werewolf. I don't know why he bothered—the guy hadn't cracked a smile the whole week he'd been there. He'd eaten his weight in steak and was a fat tipper, though, so I guess Bob felt obligated.

  The big lug tended to be a people-pleaser anyway, so the more somebody rejected his efforts, the harder he tried. That alone kinda made me want to crack the shifter with my tray for being such a buzz-kill.

  I shifted over a couple feet and turned a fan so it was blowing in my face. The heat was brutal and there hadn't been a mermaid or water nymph around all day. I liked it when they came, because it gave me an excuse to wade out to the water bar to wait on them—a definite plus when the thermometer pushed past ninety.

  We also had a huge salt-chlorinated, zero-entry infinity pool that had a direct-connect to the ocean, so it was available to everybody. Unfortunately, it was closed for cleaning; a group of unicorns had their son's birthday party in there the day before and ... kids were kids. So, no wading around the edges to deliver drinks. The fan would have to do.

  Bob lumbered over to pick up my drink ticket. "Man, that guy's tough," he whispered. "I'm throwin' my best material at him, and nothing. I can't get him to look away from that laptop.”

  I tilted my head and examined the guy in question as he stared at the screen like it held the secrets to the universe. Good looking, as most werewolves were, but he lacked the lightheartedness that marked most of his kind.

  "What's his deal, anyway?”

  "No idea," Bob said, muddling mint and simple syrup for a mojito. "He's met with Cass a couple times, but that's it. And every time he has, his mood's seemed worse."

  That wasn't an atypical response to dealing with our boss though, so it didn't add anything to the speculation. It would have been more unusual had he come away smiling.

  Speaking of ...

  "Maganti!" Somebody bellowed my last name from behind me.

  Before turning, I pulled a deep breath in through my nose and blew it out through my mouth, counting to five as I did.

  My boss, Cassiel—otherwise known as the disgraced Angel of Temperance—was a blow-hard and an idiot. I wasn't sure who'd assigned him to be the figurehead of that particular virtue, but apparently they hadn't been practicing it themselves when they'd made the call.

  It had taken a few millennia, but he'd finally pushed his luck one too many times with the powers that be and was tossed out on his ear, much to the chagrin of everybody in the mortal realm, or at least those of us who lived on the Enchanted Coast. Managing the beach bar was his booby prize, and he lorded over it like the planet owed him a living.

  As usual, he was already half in the bag, which meant he was gonna be even more horrid than he was when sober. He was the only downside to this job. Well, him and sand in awkward places, but the latter was an easy fix.

  Bob finished making the last of my drinks and ambled the couple of steps back to me, a concerned expression on his heavy features as he set them down.

  "Don't bait him, Destiny," he pleaded under his breath. "Just find out what he wants, do it, then ignore him. He's just looking for an excuse to can you. Again."

  "He can try," I said, lifting a shoulder. He'd fired me the previous summer, for three weeks until word spread to my regulars. It seemed I had a following that had some pull with the higher-ups. Not only had I been reinstated, I'd gotten a raise. Needless to say, that hadn't gone over well with Cassiel.

  Still, I loved my job, and goodwill was a fickle beast. As a people person and a water witch who didn't want to live in the closet, the Enchanted Coast—a magical vacation resort on the Gulf of Mexico designed to meet the needs of paranormals—was the best of all worlds. So, in the interest of keeping the peace, I pivoted toward him, gritting my teeth and pasting on a smile.

  "Yeah, Cass?" I said, putting everything I had into being pleasant.

  Not even attempting to return the courtesy, he gestured toward the outside tables. "The place is a mess. That table needs bussed and there are empty cups everywhere. And those fans are for guests only—not lazy waitresses."

  I glanced around the area and ran my tongue over my teeth. "First," I said, still trying to maintain my fragile mask of civility, "that table is occupied. They're in the water. Second, there are exactly two empty cups, both of which just blew out of the trash can when you stormed by it and flexed your wings." I decided to let the fan comment drop. "But I'll get right on it."

  I had no idea what the reason was for his animosity. He'd despised me from day one, even before he had to eat crow and hire me back. I could get along with the devil himself if he was willing to meet me half way, but despite my efforts, Cass refused to play nice.

  After a while, I'd given up. The only thing I could figure was I'd been offered his job before he was sentenced to it. I’d turned it down because I would have gotten paid less to do more, after I added in my tips.

  "And since you have time to stand around," he sneered, foul as always, "Go clean out the unicorn pen. People can see those rainbow turds from the hotel, and the cotton-candy smell is disgusting."

  Bending over to pick up the cups, I muttered an anatomically impossible suggestion for what he could go do.

  "What was that?" he asked, narrowing his bloodshot eyes at me.

  I heaved a sigh. As usual, I was gonna have to be the bigger person. "Nothin' Cass," I said, waving him off as I went for the shovel. "Just ... have another drink."

  With one stroke of the ginormous ashen wings that marked him as a fallen angel, he was towering over me, swaying a little, the smell of old whiskey seeping from his pores. I straightened my spine as my magic surged. The last thing I was willing to do was give in to a bully, even if he was an angel, and my boss to boot.

  "Hey Cass," a centaur named Evan called from behind him, "cut her some slack. My drink hasn't gone empty all day, and she just finished busting her ass keeping a ten-top of gorgons happy. She's earned a minute in front of the fan."

  Fiona, the leader of the gorgons he was referencing, exited the bathroom in time to hear Evan's comment, patting her turban to make sure all her snakes were safely tucked away. She glided over to me and handed me an extra fifty, assessing the situation as she did so. Cass was no stranger to her, nor was he a friend.

  "Thanks, sweetie. You were a doll as always." she said, giving me a faint smile along with the bill.

  She peered down her nose at Cass, her lip curled in disgust. "Bitter angel. Unless you'd like a peek at my girls, I suggest you be nice."

  She was talking about the ones under her turban, not the ones under her bathing-suit wrap—you know, the ones that could turn him to stone. Fascinated as everybody else was with the exchange, they turned away just in case.

  "That won't be necessary," he ground out, glaring at me.

  "Pity," she said, flapping a hand. "The resort could use an angel statue and it would be my pleasure to donate one." She maintained eye contact for a couple seconds, possibly hoping he'd give her a reason, then turned and strode away.

  Cass turned to me as I picked up the cups and pointed an angry, albeit shaky, finger at me. "One of these days, I'm gonna find a reason to fire you for good."

  My thin veneer of respect slipped and I spun on him, my sense of fair play offended beyond reason. I hadn't done anything to deserve his attitude.

  "Yeah," I said, shoving the cups down in the can with more force than was necessary, "and one of these days, my fairy godmother’s gonna grant my wish and you'll drop dead for good. But until one of those days arrives, I guess we're stuck with each other."

  It wasn't even an hour later that I regretted those words. Not because I suddenly developed a case of the warm-and-fuzzies for him, but because I was the prime su
spect in his murder.

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