Americana Fairy Tale

by Lex Chase

  Tears ran down Taylor’s cheeks. He clung to the frail hope Ringo was still alive.

  Clearing the tree line, Taylor immediately tripped over a root. He crashed onto his stomach and coughed with the hard impact. Taylor snapped to his feet and took off again.

  His goal was the truck. And the huntsman tools in the truck’s tool chest. Taylor had to be ready to defend himself. He had no choice in the matter. The only option he had now was to kill Corentin. He had to protect himself. He had to do it for Ringo.

  “Oh, Storyteller… Ringo…,” Taylor croaked and doubled over to collect himself. The sobs finally came for him. His shoulders shook with ragged breaths, and his mouth contorted into a miserable rictus of relentless sorrow.

  Desperation urged him onward.

  He ran up the dirt patch and bounded over the mossy logs. His feet slipped on the vegetation, but he leaped to correct himself. He gasped with a victorious grin when the truck was in sight, then hopped from log to log and finally clapped his hands on the truck’s tailgate. With a foot on the bumper, he propelled himself into the truck bed. Taylor crashed to his knees in front of the diamond-plated tool chest. He fumbled while looking for a latch. His fingers fluttered over a padlock, and he squealed in defeat. He jerked hard at the lock with frustration and was pleasantly surprised when the hook of the lock pulled open.

  Corentin had never locked it from when the journey started.

  Taylor threw the lid open, and the shrill creak startled the birds from the trees. His shoulders slumped.

  Corentin’s huntsman tools were just tools.

  A few hammers, some wrenches, screwdrivers, trowels, paintbrushes, drop cloths, the typical fare for any handyman.

  Taylor’s fingers brushed over the drop cloths and felt something hard. He yanked back the crinkled plastic and found a well-used machete. Without a second thought, he tore the machete from the tool chest and was ready for the fray. He turned to abandon the truck, machete in hand….

  And jerked with a gasp when he saw Atticus sitting on the tailgate behind him.

  Every ounce of bravery Taylor had washed out of him. He trembled like a still rabbit, listening for danger and waiting for Atticus’s killing blow.

  “Look at the mess you’ve gotten yourself into now,” Atticus said in a contented purr. His lilac eyes glimmered in the darkness.

  “A-Atticus…,” Taylor stammered. “You’re here? How are you here?”

  Atticus smiled and patted a spot next to him on the tailgate. “Idi’s been watching you.”

  Taylor knew he was outgunned. Whatever Atticus had planned for him was going to happen sometime. Taylor didn’t intend for that time to be soon. He sat on the tool chest instead, ready to leap off the side of the truck if he needed. But the idea of tripping and landing on his newly acquired machete seemed likely.

  Corentin would be here soon, and Taylor needed to be ready.

  “We don’t have to do this, At-At,” Taylor said, using the nickname he had given Atticus long ago. “It doesn’t have to be this way. It can all go back to the way it was. We can figure it out. We’ll think of something.”

  Atticus chuckled, and Taylor’s stomach clenched. Taylor shrank in on himself and waited.

  “You’ll think of something, eh?” Atticus asked, and Taylor met his gaze. “That’s my Taylor. Always thinking of something.”

  Atticus’s tone held no love. He hopped off the tailgate and stepped away from the truck. Taylor took it as his cue to do the same. He climbed off the side of the truck and kept his distance from Atticus. Taylor kept hold of the machete, ready to use it if needed.

  “We can just put our heads together. There has to be a way,” Taylor said and paced a slow circle around Atticus.

  Atticus gave an arrogant toss of the head, and his long sweep of dark bangs settled across his forehead. “That’s you,” Atticus said with a grin. “Always coming up with some half-baked scheme with disastrous results.”

  The machete shook in Taylor’s grip.

  They stared at each other, and Atticus continued. “You ran away from your own wedding. You ran away to New York. You ran away from your Enchant lineage. You ran away. You always run away.” Atticus’s brows furrowed, and he snarled. “You run away and leave me to clean up your messes. You run away and leave me behind.”

  Taylor’s lip quivered. “Please, it wasn’t like that.” Taylor waved a hand to halt his brother. “It’s never been like that. Whatever Charles—Idi, whatever his name is—is putting in your head, it isn’t true. None of it is true.” Taylor lost his footing on the path and stumbled. He let go of the machete to make sure he couldn’t fall on it. “You don’t have to listen to him. You don’t have to become Snow White the Witch Butcher,” Taylor said, and his fingers itched for the safety of the machete. “Idi doesn’t have to exploit the witches, and you don’t have to kill them. You can make laws. Regulate them. Make them accountable.” Taylor’s knees shook as he gave his final plea. The tears came again. “Please, don’t kill them. Please, don’t kill Darlene. Don’t kill Corentin. Please, don’t kill Corentin.” His voice cracked with the new onslaught of cries. “Please.”

  Atticus blinked, and Taylor stiffened. Atticus’s face pulled into a slow, easy grin. “Kill Corentin?” he asked with merriment in his tone. “Why would I waste the effort? He’s dying anyway.”

  The statement hit Taylor like a sledgehammer on concrete.

  “D-dying?” Taylor asked. “Corentin’s dying?”

  Atticus crossed his arms and stepped up on a collection of logs. He towered over Taylor, and Taylor felt so small in his presence. “The measure of dark magic within him is killing him,” Atticus said with an arrogant smirk. “It’s a miracle he’s still above ground. He could die any day, any hour, any minute.” Atticus snapped his fingers, and Taylor jumped.

  Taylor didn’t know what to say, how to process, or what to do next. The chill of dread sank into his bones, gluing him to the spot.

  Atticus broke into gales of laughter and clapped a slow applause. “And look at you, Taylor. Look at you.” The sickle grin returned. “You love him, don’t you? This man, this thing, this Cronespawn who could die any moment? Any moment. And you gave your heart to him? Is this one of those things you figured out? Did you honestly expect you were going to find a happily ever after with Corentin fucking Devereaux?”

  The way Atticus mocked Taylor’s feelings stirred the waking fires of something deeply hidden within Taylor. The hardened heart that he kept protected now gave one angry beat. “I will remain by his side wherever the road leads,” Taylor said with a stubborn frown.

  Atticus rested his cheek in his hand and shook his head. Taylor noted he was trying to hold in his amusement. “The trash can princess and the thug Cronespawn,” Atticus said and then sighed. “Mother Storyteller would love that one.”

  Taylor took the distance as a blessing and immediately snatched the machete from the ground. Something was going to happen, but Taylor was going to take every opportunity to go down swinging.

  “Here’s the glory of your harebrained scheme,” Atticus said. “You gave your heart to a creature that is not only not a prince, but the wrong person entirely, and you—” Atticus held out his hands toward Taylor. “—you as a princess cannot give him True Love’s Kiss to save him.”

  Taylor blinked with the solution Atticus put right in front of him and Taylor had failed to see the entire time. But would it work? Taylor’s Princesshood enchantment repelled Corentin. Taylor knew how awful it was that he loved Corentin, but Corentin wasn’t the one for him. But if Idi could break the bond and get to Atticus, Taylor had to try.

  He had to try.

  A hard blow to the back of Taylor’s head and his vision blew into whiteness. He stumbled forward as his head throbbed. Somewhere along the way, the machete dropped from his hand.

  “Where are you going?” Corentin’s voice carried into the darkness in a horrific growl.

  Taylor recovered, blinking away the spots. He sp
un in a quick circle as he hunted for Atticus, but Atticus had vanished.

  Only Corentin remained.

  And he was ready to take Taylor apart.

  Corentin’s eyes burned like the red-orange coals of his ancestor’s enchanted oven. He flexed his fingers into menacing fists and gave Taylor a grin, and Taylor knew Corentin would eat him alive here on the forest floor.

  With the machete gone, Taylor stood his ground, like a proud princess who would sooner die than relinquish the title. “Did you kill Ringo?” Taylor asked, amazed at how calm he sounded.

  “He’s next,” Corentin hissed in an inhuman slither of words.

  Corentin lunged forward, and Taylor darted left between two tightly packed trees. Corentin corrected his path and followed Taylor through the trees, the threads of his fine suit catching on the rough bark. Taylor ran to where there was no path. He slipped around trees and skidded through leaves. His panicked breathing was the only sound, and it was too deep inside his head. He scanned behind him to find Corentin in the darkness. As Taylor looked back, he collided hard into Corentin, who stood right in front of him. Corentin grappled Taylor before he could pull away.

  Taylor squealed and wiggled one of his arms free. “I’m sorry,” he said and dragged his clawed fingers across Corentin’s face.

  He roared, releasing Taylor in a shove. Taylor danced back and waited for Corentin’s next move. This was the moment he needed to save Corentin, or it would be all for naught. Taylor just hadn’t expected his first kiss with any man to be under the circumstances that his life depended on it.

  Perhaps a princess’s love was the greatest weapon of all.

  Launching himself at Taylor, Corentin ducked low to move in for an uppercut. Taylor tripped, and the blow hit him in the stomach. He gasped with the wind violently exiting his lungs and collapsed forward onto his hands and knees, coughing for air. Corentin shifted behind him. Taylor struggled to get to his feet. He quickly crawled away, only for Corentin to latch on to one ankle and yank it out from under him. Taylor fell flat to the forest floor. He spat dirt and leaves as Corentin forced him to roll over to his back.

  Taylor shivered with equal amounts of rage and terror flowing through him. Corentin stood over him. Taylor watched Corentin consider the atrocities he’d inflict upon him.

  “Get up,” Corentin said in a feral growl.

  Taylor didn’t question it and slowly got to his feet among the layer of dried leaves. He braced himself and readied for another attack. Taylor put up his hands in some pathetic imitation of an action hero. He didn’t know what it could do, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

  Corentin moved in, and Taylor saw it coming at him in slow motion. Corentin moved like a swimmer through the depths of the ocean. The curious force in Taylor bloomed to the forefront. And Taylor was ready for him. Instead of surprise, the calm and serenity whispered into his mind, offering him peace.

  Corentin’s fist aimed for Taylor’s jaw, but Taylor bent back and then took Corentin’s arm within his hands. Taylor twisted at the waist and sent Corentin slamming into a tree. He grunted but shook it off quickly. Taylor slipped back as the cooling fire deep within him groaned and churned to get free. The rage he had long held within, waiting to strike at the right moment. Waiting to be unleashed on the world.

  Hopping forward, Corentin closed the distance between them. He faked Taylor with a punch to the left and connected with a right to his kidneys. Corentin’s fist was like a hammer blow to his body, but the fire within Taylor became an inferno with the exhilarating sensation.

  He returned the maneuver with one of his own. Taylor spun around Corentin’s body and then used the motion to crouch. Following his momentum, he kicked Corentin’s legs out from under him. Corentin collided with the forest floor but didn’t stay down for long. He curled back, then snapped his body forward in a kip-up, and finally landed on his feet.

  Taylor smiled in admiration of Corentin’s acrobatics. For the first time, Taylor recognized the pleasure of the fight.

  Corentin stepped in again, and Taylor returned to the dance. They were no longer predator and prey, huntsman and princess. Taylor could smell the passion from Corentin’s skin, and his belly quaked with hunger. Corentin gripped Taylor over the back of his head, intent on bringing his knee into Taylor’s stomach. Taylor tipped farther forward, rolling out of the grip. He propelled himself forward and tackled Corentin’s knees. Corentin fell back, and the leaves exploded around him.

  Laughing in a joyously deranged sound, Taylor went in for the pin. Corentin rolled aside and scrambled to standing. Taylor kicked to his feet, eager and excited for what Corentin would throw at him next.

  They ran at each other. Taylor kept his attention on Corentin’s eyes. There seemed to be recognition in them that this had become a game to Taylor. A most enjoyable game of passionate thrills. Taylor had become addicted to the fire within him. He encouraged it to burn brighter, brilliant, blazing.

  As they moved in, Taylor leaped at Corentin and wrapped his legs around Corentin’s waist. Corentin spun with Taylor and pinned him to a nearby tree. Taylor jolted with a spark of pleasure when Corentin’s desire made itself known against Taylor’s own hardness. Taylor arched his back against the tree and laced his fingers loosely around Corentin’s neck.

  “Yesss…,” Taylor groaned as Corentin ground his arousal against their clothes.

  “I…,” Corentin said in a breathy growl. “I don’t want to hurt you….” His hips drove into Taylor’s, and Taylor shivered with the intense pleasure he had long sought.

  He tipped forward into Corentin as they dry-frotted together. Taylor took Corentin’s cheeks between his hands and made Corentin give him his full attention. “You will never hurt me,” Taylor whispered.

  Taylor then seized fistfuls of Corentin’s hair, and Taylor claimed Corentin’s mouth with his own.

  With the force of a princess’s love, the dried leaves were torn away from them by the shockwave of magic. They collected into a turbulent funnel, twisting and rippling around the pair as they expressed their pent-up need for each other. The trees bent and creaked with the raw enchantment of desire and threatened to shatter into splinters.

  They shared their secret love that had always been there but which they had refused to express. The wind raged, and their mouths made love to one another like it was a dying wish.

  Taylor’s hair twisted in the torrent, whipping about his face. Sparks of light and motes of magic ignited from his caress. Primroses blossomed under their feet and sprawled outward like a glimmering pink carpet. They shimmered with droplets of healing dew. Taylor kissed Corentin with all the wishes, hopes, and dreams he had long denied himself.

  In return, Taylor finally understood the peace that came with true love.

  Taylor broke the kiss, and the magic evaporated. They panted for air. Taylor watched Corentin with a hard stare. He waited to see if there was comprehension of what had happened to them and what had been happening between them all along.

  Corentin smiled and then chuckled breathlessly.

  “I need you, Corentin,” Taylor whispered. “I need you now.”

  CHAPTER 28:

  AS IT FADES

  The Grand Hotel, Mackinac Island, Michigan

  June 12

  TAYLOR’S STOMACH quivered as he stared though the peephole of his hotel room. “C’mon…. C’mon…,” Taylor whispered as he bounced on his toes. He caught sight of Corentin looking somewhat paranoid with his messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

  Taylor barely opened the door as Corentin shoved his way in. Taylor checked the lock and slammed the deadbolt in place. He turned as Corentin rummaged through his bag only to snort and upend it across the desk. His monstrous journal hit the floor like a block of concrete. Taylor scooted away from it. The memory of the last time he touched it made his heart thump.

  The travel bottle with the seafoam green label rolled across the desk and into Corentin’s hand. He held it up with a ja
ckass grin.

  Taylor smirked. “You know, I almost believed you this was actually hand sanitizer.” He too rummaged through the scattered pens, not paying much attention to the zip ties and roll of duct tape.

  Corentin sucked in a sigh and pulled Taylor close. He boldly gave his rear a squeeze and Taylor yelped. “You bought it,” Corentin whispered with a wolfish grin.

  From among the mess, Taylor snatched the candy-colored condom packet. He held it out to Corentin and gave a haughty purr. “This better not be flavored. Because you will never live it down.”

  “Glow in the dark.” Corentin gave a sly grin.

  “Oh, hell no,” Taylor squealed.

  Corentin claimed Taylor’s mouth. Taylor’s face burned with a blush as he pulled away. Corentin’s brows came together in concern. “No good?”

  Shaking his head quickly, Taylor’s retorts to Corentin’s sarcasm evaporated. “No, no, good. Really good. Just… um… surprising.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Can we do that again? I need to learn how to be good at it.”

  Corentin captured Taylor’s chin between two fingers. “You want me to teach you, huh?”

  “Asshole.” Taylor punched Corentin in the arm.

  They kissed, and Taylor’s lashes fluttered as Corentin’s tongue danced over his own. Taylor blindly felt over Corentin’s chest and ripped away his tie. Corentin pulled away just far enough to whisper against his lips, “Are you sure about this? It’s going to be your first time.”

  He took the condom between two fingers and held it up between them, seeming to make sure Taylor understood what they were doing.

  The concern was endearing. Taylor nodded, drunk on desire. He tugged at his own belt and then shoved his slacks away. Taylor threw himself at Corentin, and Corentin carried him backward across the carpet. “I’m assuming there’s some kind of princess thing that won’t make it awkward and horrifying,” Taylor said and kissed Corentin again.