Tales of Folk & Fey

by Melissa Marr

  As she walked toward her father, her step was measured, and her smile was convincing. She might be filled with anxiety, but no one would know.

  The crowd was manageable. Everything was okay. She could succeed at this if she thought of it like a regular business gathering.

  She straightened her shoulders and sailed through the crowd—until Creed Morrison stepped into her path, stopping her advance, leaving her uneasy in a way no one ever had.

  Creed had the beautiful dark complexion of the Seelie fae. The fae long thought to be both kinder and better were those whose skin was sun-burnished. Creed’s skin had the tell-tale signs of fae heritage, but Creed’s human father, was African-American, so Creed had an explanation for his Seelie-dark skin. Lily shared his heritage, but she had less chance of exposure for her heritage because she’d inherited her father’s pale skin instead of her mother’s dark skin. Not all of the fae-blood were able to pass as human, not like Lily was.

  “Lilywhite,” he said. She’d heard his speaking voice, listened to interviews for hours actually, but hearing her name from his lips made her unable to reply.

  She nodded. Abernathy Commandment # 2: Be yourself.

  “I looked for you before the crowd arrived,” he said, as if they were friends.

  In the tuxedo and gown filled room, Creed’s jeans, tee-shirt, and boots were very out of place. The art etched on his skin stood out, more because it was visible than because it existed. He was far from the only person in the room with tattoos, but his weren’t hidden under sleeves or jackets. Creed Morrison demanded attention. It was a well documented—and oft photographed—fact. She’d read every article on him, clipped pictures from magazines and filed them away. It wasn’t an obsession; actually speaking to him was the last thing she wanted. What she wanted was to understand how other fae-bloods lived, if her suspicions were correct. Now seeing him in person for the first time, she knew. Now, he was here, and he was exactly what she suspected—and she wanted to flee.

  She fidgeted with one of her bracelets, twisting it around her wrist, staring at the glittering green stones. “Had you needed something, Mr. Morrison?”

  “Creed,” he stressed.

  “Creed,” she repeated quietly.

  He smiled and said, “I wanted to wish you happy birthday before I sing.”

  Again, she nodded. This time, though, she looked up—and wished she hadn’t.

  Creed was watching her with an utterly inappropriate intensity. If her father saw, he’d toss Creed out the door, despite the obscene sum he’d probably paid for his presence. Lily felt like her skin was electrified everywhere his gaze fell. She’d felt a tingle of recognition a few times when she’d seen other fae-bloods, but not like this. Nothing had ever felt like this.

  “I didn’t know you did these sort of things,” she finally managed to say.

  “Talk to beautiful girls at parties?”

  “No. Sing for hire at parties,” she corrected him.

  “I don’t.” He smiled, and she wondered how anyone ever thought he was anything other than fae-blood. He radiated energy. Maybe it was harder for people without fae ancestry to see it, but she’d glimpsed it even in photographs.

  Lily resisted the urge to match his smile with one of her own and added, “Incidentally, flattering me is pointless. The sons of Daidí’s associates all try it to curry favor with him. I’m immune to praise.” She met his eyes, reminding herself who she was, reminding them both that she was not the shy creature she felt like in that moment when she’d first seen him. “The no-one-else-matters gaze is a nice touch, but Daidí hired you to perform. Tonight will be the beginning and the end of your contact with the notorious Mr. Abernathy, no matter what you do or say.”

  “What if I want your favor?” Creed asked as he took a drink from a tray that a waiter held out to both of them.

  Lily gave him a derisive smile, but said nothing.

  Once the waiter was gone, and they were again alone in the crowd, Creed continued in a low voice, “You’re a hard girl to get to meet, Lilywhite. I took this job specifically to meet you. No publicity. No one outside of the guests here right now even knows I’m doing this.”

  “Fantasies of the crime lord’s daughter on your arm to add to your image?”

  Creed laughed. “Not quite.”

  “I might not believe everything I read, but I’ve seen enough photos of you with different girls to know that you have are two types: ones who add to your reputation and ones who are simply . . . unusual. I’m guessing your interest in Nick Abernathy’s daughter is about a fifty-fifty split between intrigue and business.”

  Creed shook his head. “What if it isn’t Nicolas Abernathy’s daughter I wanted to meet, but Iana’s?”

  Lily stilled. No one talked about her mother. It simply wasn’t done. Daidí’s considerable reputation for cold vengeance prevented it. “Those are dangerous words.”

  “For people of our heritage, there are a lot of dangerous words,” Creed murmured as he leaned close and brushed a kiss on her cheek.

  The feel of his skin on hers resonated through her body like she was a vessel for nature itself. If Creed Morrison’s words hadn’t confirmed that he was a fae-blood, his touch would have.

  When he leaned back, he paused as if the contact had jolted him like it had her, but then a heartbeat later he was kissing her other cheek and saying, “If you want to talk privately later, I’d like that.”

  Lily realized that he was pressing a small card into her hand. She curled her fingers around it so it wasn’t visible to anyone when he stepped back.

  Whatever angle Creed Morrison had, Lily couldn’t risk honesty with him. The world was divided: humans made up most of the population, fae-bloods—those with any degree of fae ancestry—existed in secret among them, and true fae lived in the Hidden Lands. Any drop of fae blood was enough to result in imprisonment, but the alternative was to find a way to seek out the entrance to the Hidden Lands, to turn away from humanity. For many fae-bloods, it was safest to simply pass as human. The war carried out by the Queen of Blood and Rage meant that any of her subjects were considered war criminals by the human courts, even those who had not sworn fealty to the faery queen.

  “My only heritage is as Nick Abernathy’s heir,” Lily said levelly, suppressing the wince from the physical pain of the lie.

  She was, in fact, more fae than human. She’d known that for years. Being so fae meant that the words hurt to utter, but admitting her ancestry to the wrong person could mean the kind of imprisonment that would try even the considerable limits of Daidí’s power. Lily wasn’t foolish enough to risk that with someone she’d just met.

  “Liar,” Creed whispered.

  “Fae-blood can’t be liars,” she said, twisting the truth just enough to ease the pain of a complete falsehood.

  Creed’s expression went carefully blank and he said, “I’m not fae-blood either. Not a drop.” He paused, watching her study him, and then added, “You can learn to hide the physical pain of lying, Lilywhite; surely you know that as well as I do. I know what you are, what we are.”

  There was nothing she could say to that, no retort that would disprove his blatant truth.

  Creed glanced briefly at her hand, which was curled around his card so tightly that the edges of it were pressed into her skin. Casually, he reached out and trailed his fingers over the knuckles of her closed fist.

  She concentrated on not reacting.

  “Tonight,” he said. “Later. Anytime. I want to talk to you.”

  “I don’t . . .” she looked down at her hand. “I don’t know why you think I’m . . . what you say I am.”

  He stared so intently that she could swear she felt his gaze like a physical thing, but she refused to look at him as he said, “Impure water burns your throat. The wrong soap makes your skin blister . . . and alcohol, cigarettes, drugs, they all affect you so much more than they do other people, non-fae people.”

  Lily kept her lips firmly closed. She s
till wasn’t admitting a thing, but she obviously didn’t need to. Creed wasn’t guessing. He knew. He’d known before he’d met her—as she had about him.

  “You don’t need much sleep at all unless you have their toxic food,” he continued. “When you do, you feel weak and need to sleep for hours.”

  She looked up finally.

  “And I’d bet that you have a bit of yard that is meticulously up kept, no pesticides, no gardener allowed in it. You feel it there without needing to hide. Soil or air, water trickling under the earth, or stone humming secrets. You know what you are when you are connected to nature. You know what we are.” His voice grew soft, lulling her into a peace that she only ever felt outside. Suddenly, all Lily wanted was to sit and listen to him forever. There was magic in the way words slid from his lips, magic in the truth of them and in the boy speaking them.

  She took a step closer to him.

  “You like to stand on the bare ground, burrow your toes into the soil when you’re tired, feel the earth and its pulse beating to match your own. Nature calls to us, Lilywhite.”

  Lily reached out and touched his wrist. She wanted to deny everything, but she couldn’t lie again. Not to him, not right now. Creed reached out and covered her hand with his.

  She wasn’t sure how long they stood like that—or how long they would’ve stayed that way, but Daidí walked over and held out his hand to her. “Lilywhite.”

  She moved to him obediently, grateful for the familiarity of being at his side at a party, grateful to have a routine to fall into instead of whatever was happening with Creed.

  Daidí extended a hand to the boy, who accepted it easily.

  “Mr. Abernathy,” he greeted, shaking Daidí’s hand briefly. “I’m glad I made an exception to my manager’s rules to be here to sing for Lilywhite.”

  Daidí’s stiff expression flickered briefly to amusement at the reminder that Creed was there as a favor and a very expensive one no doubt. “My daughter likes your music, and there is nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for her happiness—or for her safety.”

  Creed nodded, acknowledging the warning implicit in Daidí’s voice, and glanced at her again. “Any particular songs you want to hear, Miss Abernathy?”

  The titles of Creed’s songs, some of which she’d listened to until she could pick them out after only a few notes, all fled her mind. “Surprise me.”

  “Haven’t I already?”

  Her eyes widened just enough that Lily was glad Daidí was frowning at Creed instead of scrutinizing her.

  Creed smiled, a genuine soul-searing smile that she’d rarely glimpsed in the hundreds of photos she’d seen in magazines, and then with a nod to them both he walked toward the stage that had been set up for him.

  At her side, Daidí was silent as they walked to the table at the front of the ballroom where she was to sit like a regent holding court. For all of her father’s suggestions that she mingle with those her own age, he still set her apart. Soon, his colleagues would come and give her gifts. Shayla would arrive and catalogue them, and Daidí would nod approvingly. Everyone would pretend that the people her own age who did approach her did so by their own choice. All the while, she would watch Creed sing for her as if private concerts from global celebrities was her due.

  “He’s like you,” Daidí whispered as he seated her at the birthday table. It was a question as much as a statement.

  Lily nodded.

  On stage, Creed inserted a little earpiece into his ear and nodded at the man who was stationed to the side at a complex looking control board. Creed felt more familiar now, like the unapproachable rockstar in her fantasies. He was safer now that he was at a distance.

  “I thought as much from the way you studied him in those journals,” Daidí said with a satisfied tone that made her glance his way.

  She caught her father’s hand as he started to turn away. When she tugged him down beside her, he didn’t resist. She kissed his cheek as an excited daughter should and assured him, “I admitted nothing. I never have to anyone.”

  “You can with him,” he said.

  When Daidí straightened again, she knew that her father had his people thoroughly investigate Creed. No one was admitted to Abernathy Estates without thorough background searches.

  As Creed started the opening chords to “Deadly Girl,” his eyes were fixed steadfastly on her and her father. She could feel his words like a lure.

  Air. Creed Morrison’s affinity was air.

  The articles she’d read all explained that fae-blood were typically associated with one element. Those of purer fae lines had a second. True fae had two or sometimes three. Nothing explained why she had four, and she’d never met another fae-blood she could ask.

  Here, though, was one in her home.

  The music covered Daidí’s words as he told her, “I want you to talk to him. If he doesn’t give you his contact information, I’ll have Shayla get it for you. You need to know more of your people. That’s why I brought him here.”

  Lily glanced from her father to Creed and back again.

  “Happy birthday, Lilywhite,” Daidí said.

  The real present wasn’t the party, or the jewelry, or even the concert. Her father had delivered Creed Morrison to her like a gift. All he needed was a bow.

  * * *

  Praise for the WICKED LOVELY series:

  * * *

  “Marr offers readers a fully imagined faery world that runs alongside an everyday world, which even non-fantasy (or faerie) lovers will want to delve into” --Publisher’s Weekly (starred review)

  * * *

  “This is a magical novel… the first book in a trilogy that will guarantee to have you itching for the next installment.” Bliss

  * * *

  “Fans of the fey world will devour this sequel to Wicked Lovely. Marr has created a world both harsh and lush, at once urban and natural.” --School Library Journal

  “Marr has done it again with this dark, beautifully woven story of love, magic, and belonging.” --Romantic Times Bookclub

  “Complex and involving.” -New York Times Book Review

  * * *

  Praise for GRAVEMINDER:

  * * *

  “If anyone can put the goth in Southern Gothic, it’s Melissa Marr. . . . Marr takes her time building the world of Clayville, and the sinister mystery that dwells within its city limits. She’s also careful to ensure that the book’s wider themes —how and if we accept the roles life assigns us, and what happens to us when we refuse them—matter to us as much as the multiple cases of heebie-jeebies she doles out before the book is through.” —NPR.org

  “Spooky enough to please but not too disturbing to read in bed.”—Washington Post

  “Dark and dreamy. . . . Rod Serling would have loved Graveminder. . . . Marr is not tapping into the latest horde of zombie novels, she’s created a new kind of undead creature. . . . A creatively creepy gothic tale for grown-ups.”—USA Today

  “Plan ahead to read this one, because you won’t be able to put it down! Haunting, captivating, brilliant!” —Library Journal (starred review)

  “Marr serves up a quirky dark fantasy fashioned around themes of fate, free will—and zombies. . . . Well-drawn characters and their dramatic interactions keep the tale loose and lively.” —Publishers Weekly

  “The emotional dance between Rebekkah and Byron will captivate female readers. . . . Fantasy-horror fans will demand more.” —Kirkus Reviews

  “No one builds worlds like Melissa Marr.” —Charlaine Harris, New York Times bestselling author of the Sookie Stackhouse series

  “Welcome to the return of the great American gothic.” —Del Howison, Bram Stoker Award-winning editor of Dark Delicacies

  * * *

  Praise for CARNIVAL OF SECRETS (originally published as Carnival of Souls):

  * * *

  “Lives collide in a spectacular tangle of love, hate, and long-standing vendettas…Add in class warfare, a deadly tournament, and the
Carnival of Souls, where any pleasure or contract can be fulfilled, and this is one novel that will be at the top of everyone’s to-read list.” Voice of Youth Advocates (starred review)

  * * *

  “The fast pace, feisty female warriors, and themes of social justice bear more than a small resemblance to Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games, but Marr’s many fans from the Wicked Lovely series won’t be disappointed.” Booklist

  * * *

  “Marr showcases her impressive talent by crafting an incredible, fantastical, complex world. This book is worth reading for the amazing fight scenes alone. Immerse yourself in the Carnival of Souls, you won’t regret it.”--RT BOOK REVIEWS (TOP PICK)

  * * *

  “Marr’s trademark blend of dark romance, fantasy, and action is on full display.” Publisher’s Weekly

  * * *

  “A novel so dangerous and decadent it’s impossible to put down”—Kami Garcia, New York Times bestselling co-author of Beautiful Creatures

  Read on for an excerpt of The Faery Queen’s Daughter— a sweeter faery tale, suitable for readers of all ages. This novel was written before the other two faery series (Wicked Lovely & Seven Black Diamonds). It has been revised every year since 2004 and finally released in MAY 2019.

  * * *

  Out now in paperback and ebook . . .

  * * *

  Prologue: in which paths cross

  Ivy watched Jonquil's face as the little Ellyll peered out from the foliage around them. The tiny faery’s multi-toned skin, like a strange blossom in the dark, made it impossible to truly hide herself Above-Ground.