Dark and Stormy: Phantom Queen Book 4 - A Temple Verse Series (The Phantom Queen Diaries)

by Shayne Silvers

  I blinked several times, opened my mouth and then closed it with an audible click. “So, you’re tellin’ me that—to save all of Fae, not to mention me city—I have to give meself a glitter shower?” I rehashed.

  “Pixie…Dust,” Hook said, then mouthed the words for me, signaling the cadence with his iron attachment. “Say it with me…pixie…dust.”

  I snatched up the bag and stalked off, shaking my head, ignoring the Captain’s baffled expression. Of course I knew what pixie dust was, but the idea of rubbing myself down with sparkles was some Dorian Gray shit. Couldn’t saving the day come with something more dignifying?

  “Pixie dust,” I muttered, stomping my bare feet.

  Hook could call it whatever he wanted.

  The shit still looked like glitter.

  Chapter 43

  I wobbled awkwardly in the air, trying my best to think happy thoughts. That part was important, wasn’t it?

  Because it sure as shit wasn’t working well for me. I felt like a drunk seagull.

  “For the dust to work, I have to be fuckin’ happy?” I snarled at the open air around me, struggling not to flip upside down as I heard someone who sounded suspiciously like Macha laughing in the distance. I ignored her, ignored the fact that my life was in shambles while I tried to think of happy shit.

  Like life before I met my aunts, for example.

  Those had been good times.

  Whether it was the thought itself or simply focusing on something other than the flight, I found was no longer cartwheeling through the air. The truth was I had no idea if Hook had been fucking with me regarding the whole happy thoughts business—but I couldn’t exactly take chances. Off to my right, he and the crew of the Jolly Roger were busy firing down on Balor, each fucking boom of their cannons fucking with my flying Zen.

  Cannonballs the size of watermelons spewed from her sides, raining down on the Fomorian, who—I hated to admit—was living up to the hype; he deflected each projectile with towering water pillars, their change in trajectory making them as much a hazard to Alucard—who had returned, and was currently doing his best to trade shots with the warlord—as they were to Balor.

  Which left me, Quinn “TwinkleFae” MacKenna, free to ungracefully roam the skies, unmolested, clutching the box containing Balor’s eye as though I were preparing to drop an atomic bomb. Now able to remain at least mostly upright, I still sucked as a pilot. The harder I tried to direct my flight, the further off-course I ended up. Granted, all I needed was to get close enough to Balor to open the box while his attention was elsewhere, but at this rate I doubted I’d make it before either the Jolly Roger ran out of ammunition or Alucard ran out of juice.

  Either way, we were probably fucked.

  What the hell had I been thinking?

  I felt something slither inside me, reading my thoughts, sensing my needs. I shuddered, the familiar sensation of my wild side creeping into my consciousness making it hard to concentrate. I tried to focus, but then a dark, desperate thought occurred to me.

  Why not…let her take the reins? My wild side, unleashed.

  She, at least, knew how to fly.

  I shook that thought off. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want her taking control—it was that I feared what that might mean. We needed to stop Balor, obviously, but this battlefield was especially chaotic. What if she got distracted by the Fomorian cannon fodder who remained on the other side of the Gateway, or began dry-humping Alucard?

  At least with me at the helm, the priorities were clear.

  But with her…who knew what she would consider most pressing?

  I ground my teeth, willing myself towards the water, but nothing happened.

  Let go, a voice whispered. I jerked in alarm, almost dropping Balor’s eye into the Fae seas far below.

  Give in.

  I tensed again, but this time it was internal. Because the voice…it came from inside me. In my mind.

  Trust yourself, the voice purred, sounding amused.

  Wait, trust myself?

  I frowned, dipping a little as I considered what that meant.

  Trust myself…

  So suddenly the thought threatened to throw me into a dive, it hit me…I’d been thinking of my wild side as something separate all along, like a creature I could cage and let loose at will. But she wasn’t. She was me, as surely as the reflection of that cruel, beautiful goddess I’d seen in the Winter Queen’s throne room was me. I wasn’t creating barriers by thinking of them as other, I was killing off parts of my…

  Self.

  The truth—and I was beginning to see it clearly, now—was that they wanted what I wanted, even if we took different paths to get there.

  I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and did exactly what the voice in my head had suggested.

  I let go.

  Chapter 44

  A moment later, I tore through the skies, whooping in delight as I flew circles around cannonballs that seemed to sluggishly drift through the sky on their path towards Balor. The instant I’d let go, my doubts had evaporated, and seconds had become minutes—giving me plenty of time to cross the divide between where I’d left Hook and where Balor stood, the power of his bejeweled eye slowly slicing a furrow in the air that Alucard was narrowly avoiding—twisting in mid-air with one wing cocked, the other straight out, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

  Almost like I was watching an underwater battle where everything was a fraction of the speed.

  Well, everything except me.

  I landed on the ocean’s surface, light as a feather, perhaps twenty feet away from the Fomorian. His back was turned. I approached him, slowly, carefully unfolding the cloth to reveal the iron box within as I went. Beside me, water sprayed in a slow arc from one of the cannonballs striking a liquid column—the droplets distinct enough to count. I ducked them and returned my attention to Balor.

  But it wasn’t Balor I was facing, now.

  It was Dobby.

  The spriggan had emerged in his shadow form like a spider, tendrils arcing out towards me in a lazy wave. I danced around them, laughing, hopping over one like a jump rope, and limboing beneath another, until at last I was within striking distance. By the time I looked back at him, Dobby’s face had begun to form out of the shadows, his eyes wide in surprise. Balor, meanwhile, had begun to twist at the hips, to bring the light of his eye to bear, but it was too late.

  Far too late.

  I sank beneath the waves, angling the box so that the exposed eye would stare at nothing but its owner and a dark, desolate sky, and cracked the lid of the box. Pain lanced up my arm the instant I touched the iron—but by then it didn’t matter.

  I watched with wide eyes as a pale, sickly light unlike any I’d ever seen screamed outwards like an exploding star, kissing upon Dobby’s face, then Balor’s back, and finally through to the sky above.

  The spriggan was the first to feel its effects—his impossibly large eyes sunk deeper and deeper into a cavernous face, his lips peeling back against his gums—every inch of him withering until even his shadow was eaten up by the flash of light from the exposed eye in my hands.

  He screamed in sheer agony.

  I almost closed my eyes to fully savor the beautiful sound, but I couldn’t afford to look away; I wanted to be able to look back and enjoy both memories.

  Balor was next. The warlord broke down incrementally until the weight of his own head snapped his brittle neck in two, and his dry, shriveled flesh fell off his bones.

  Beyond, the clouds wisped into nothing, vaporized by the power I held in the palm of my hands.

  I slammed the box shut as time reasserted itself.

  If it burned me this time, I didn’t even notice.

  Chapter 45

  Alucard—no longer bathed in golden light but looking fairly scrumptious anyway—met me on the deck of the Jolly Roger. I had a small, threadbare pirate blanket wrapped around my shoulders in an attempt to vanquish the incessant chills that were racking
my body and making my teeth rattle; closing the iron box and sealing away the virulent power of Balor’s eye had chased away both my newfound power and my wild side, for some reason, leaving me stranded in the freezing Atlantic until Hook and his crew had found me and brought me onboard the flying vessel. Unfortunately, the abrupt loss of my magic had also shut down the Gateway entirely, leaving Oberon’s fate, and that of the remaining Fomorian warriors, up in the air for the time being.

  As if by magic—and by that, I meant totally by magic—the moment Balor had died, the dark storm clouds and choppy waters had all but disappeared. Which left the ship hanging out among the remaining wisps of white cloud cover on a sunny afternoon above Boston harbor.

  My aunts—between our short-lived fusion and the individual powers they’d exerted getting me close to Balor—appeared equally drained, albeit dry and looking far worse for wear than I did. At this point, I’d basically embraced my inner hippie; no shirt, no shoes, no problem. Well, practically no shirt, anyway, since it was basically a tattered ruin, and my blanket little better than an ancient doily. I caught Alucard sneaking a peek the instant he came over, and so—with the grace of a shambling, homeless hermit—I kicked him in his shin.

  Which hurt me a lot more than it hurt him, I think, because all he did was laugh.

  “Can I help ye?” I asked, scowling up at him. Seeing the sun glinting off his eyes and the slight breeze rustling his hair like a damned slow-motion shampoo commercial, I realized I didn’t even know what day it was, or how long Alucard and I had been gone.

  “I thought that was my line, cher,” Alucard drawled, drawing me back to the present.

  I scowled. “Don’t t’ink I’m just goin’ to run into your arms because your knight-in-shinin’ armor routine actually proved useful for once.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, sardonically. “Does that mean you don’t want me to dry you out?” He held out a hand, channeling the heat of the sun in his palm so that it bathed me in warm, soothing light.

  “Ye can stay,” I murmured in a pious tone, accepting his hand. “For now.”

  “I almost didn’t step in, you know,” Alucard said, absentmindedly, his thumb tracing slow circles in my palm that threatened to make my toes curl. One look into his distant eyes let me know he wasn’t even consciously doing it.

  The bastard.

  “Oh?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  “The Huntress was pretty damn clear about our chances of survival if we tried to help,” he replied. “And she was right. That son-of-a-bitch was something else.”

  “So what changed your mind?” I asked, waving his hand off now that I was no longer freezing to death. I kept my tattered doily over my shoulders. One, because I was tired of flashing people by accident. And two, because my assets weren’t the only things I hoped to keep prying eyes away from.

  “Hook’s ship,” Alucard answered me. “Once I saw it bust through that wave, I knew you’d be onboard. No one else I know is that…brave.”

  “Ye were goin’ to say stupid, weren’t ye?” I said, narrowing my eyes.

  “No,” Alucard said, shaking his head vehemently. “Nope. Never.”

  I snorted. “It’s alright, it was stupid. Borderline suicidal.”

  “Well, regardless, you saved a lot of lives with that stunt you pulled, cher. I hope you know that,” Alucard said, bent over so we were at about the same eye level.

  I glanced away, cheeks flushing. Partially out of embarrassment, but also because Alucard had no idea what I’d had to agree to in order to pull that stunt off—that soon his friend Nate and I might end up on one hell of a collision course. I wondered, morbidly, which side he’d pick if things went to shit.

  Oh well. Problems for another day.

  When I finally looked back, I noticed Alucard’s attention had turned to the crew of the Jolly Roger, many of whom had gathered near the ship’s helm—probably the only ship in Oberon’s fleet to have come away with most of its personnel intact, I figured. Captain Hook, it seemed, was preparing to give a speech of some kind. Something inspirational about survival, I assumed—lauding the achievements of man over nature, praising the grit they’d shown during the battle. The heart, the bravery. How good had triumphed over ev—

  “Crew!” Hook bellowed, raising his namesake in the air, its iron edge gleaming. “Hop off your lazy asses and get my ship seaworthy. We’re going home.”

  “Quite the motivational speaker,” Alucard murmured.

  “It’s all in his delivery,” I added, dryly.

  “What’s that?” Hook asked, coming down the stairs towards us.

  “Just admiring your way with words, Captain,” Alucard replied.

  Hook scowled at the vampire, hand and hook folded behind his back. “You know, I was like you, once. In my youth. Had a real smart mouth.”

  “Oh?” Alucard asked, standing upright once more, looking amused. “And how did you cure such a horrible malady?”

  Hook pursed his lips in a thin line, before finally holding up his metal appendage. “I lost my hand.” The Captain’s eyes gleamed wickedly. “I’d be careful, boy, or someone may cut off something you value.”

  “Now, now, gentlemen,” I said, putting myself firmly between the two men before they started dueling. I tapped them both firmly on the chest since they still hadn’t broken eye contact with each other. “Men as devilishly handsome as ye two shouldn’t talk so much.”

  Alucard smiled, then scowled. “Hey!”

  Hook did likewise, then glanced over at Alucard. “Are all women this rude nowadays?”

  Alucard snorted. “More than I’d like.”

  “Good thing I’m going home, then,” Hook said, grinning.

  Now it was my turn to glare at the two men; I’d always hated how they did that—beat their chests one minute and bro’d out the next, usually at a woman’s expense. Whatever. At least they weren’t bickering anymore. “Are ye sure ye want to go back?” I asked, turning my attention to more serious matters, like a responsible adult.

  “I am,” Hook said, his grin dimming.

  I frowned, recalling his promise to Tiger Lily. If he went back, he’d have to surrender his other hand. That, and he’d already made it clear that he found Neverland tiresome. Why go back? “D’ye not have anywhere else to go?” I asked, finally.

  Hook shook his head, and then shrugged. “It’s my home. I wasn’t sure until I left, but now I know. If I die there an old man, with no hands, in my sleep…well, so be it.”

  Jesus, talk about morbid. Still, I envied the man. At least he knew where his home was. After everything that had happened since my trip to Fae, I truly had no idea where I actually belonged. Boston had always been my town, but I wasn’t sure if I could handle being there without Dez. Granted, I hadn’t visited her nearly as often as I should have between work and my obsession with finding the answers to my past, but it had always been reassuring to know she’d be there waiting for me whenever I needed her. In a way, she’d been my home. Without her, I wasn’t sure what that word even meant for me anymore.

  “Speaking of,” Alucard interjected, studying my face, “I think it might be a good idea for us to head on back. Quinn here looks a little…tired.”

  I glared at him. “Listen here, Firefang,” I began in a warning tone, “if ye don’t start sayin’ the first t’ing that comes to your mind from now on, I’m goin’ to deck ye.”

  Alucard ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. “Except if I say the first thing that comes to mind, I know you’ll deck me.”

  I snorted. “Probably.”

  “Damned if ye do,” Badb rasped, her leather squeaking as she approached.

  “Damned if ye don’t,” Macha finished, curtsying.

  Alucard cocked an eyebrow. “And you two are?”

  Oh, right. Introductions. Cue Quinn, stage left.

  “These are me aunts,” I answered, before they could introduce themselves. “The would-be dominatrix is Badb. The Sound
of Music extra is Macha.”

  The two women exchanged baffled looks.

  “What’s a dominatrix?” Badb asked, arching an eyebrow, sounding mildly intrigued.

  Alucard coughed into his hand. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you both,” he replied, before I could explain. Then he shot a seemingly casual glance my way, though it was laced with undertones. “I’ll…give you all some time alone to chat. I’m sure you have some catching up to do.” He turned to Hook. “Captain, why don’t you show me that thing you wanted me to look at.” He threw one arm over Hook’s shoulder and began forcibly ambling away with the man.

  “If you don’t get your arm off me this instant, I’m going to…” the rest of Hook’s response was inaudible, but I noticed Alucard quickly withdrawing his arm and leaning in to speak softly to Hook.

  “Ye defeated Balor,” Macha said, drawing my gaze away from Alucard. “Somethin’ we were unable to do.”

  “Though I’m still curious how ye managed it,” Badb grumbled.

  “What she means to say,” Macha interjected, “is that your ma would’ve been proud.”

  “T’anks,” I replied, though perhaps with less enthusiasm than their praise deserved. The problem was, I’d never known my mother. In my mind, she’d always been some mythical figure. Now that it turned out she actually was one, all I could do was wonder what she’d been thinking—having me, pawning me off on Dez, and then leaving me with this powerful legacy and no instruction manual to speak of. If I was being honest, I couldn’t care less what my mother—Morrigan—thought. I’d done what I had for me, and for Dez.

  The only real mother I’d ever known.

  “What will ye do now?” Macha asked. The question, which should have sounded casual, came off as anything but.

  “She wants to know if you’d like to join us,” Badb said, resting a hand on my shoulder. “We’re headed back to the Otherworld to recover. Neither of us have used that kind of power in centuries. We thought ye might like to come.”