By Fairy Means or Foul: A Starfig Investigations Novel

by Meghan Maslow

  I looked over my shoulder and saw the virgin sprite winging her way toward us at high speed. She was so delicate. A beautiful angel with fine features. And large blue eyes that seemed to take up most of her face. Gorgeous, feminine, exquisite. I stopped and she fluttered to a halt in front of us, breathing heavy.

  I held out my palm, so she could rest her gossamer wings. Landing on it, she continued to breathe deeply for a moment or two.

  “Fuck, you’re hard to catch.” She stomped on my palm in a fit of pique, her cute bow mouth drawn tight, then waved her hand imperiously demanding I lift her up so we were eye to eye.

  “And here I imagined you were going to thank me for freeing you,” I said.

  “Fucking right I am, Fucko.” She put her tiny hands on her hips, tapped her foot. “I’m Drutilda Fondlefrank. Nice name, I know. But listen, half-breed, I heard you’re looking for Sahara Burningwood. She’s one bad bitch, ya know? Fuck, I wouldn’t want to screw with her. I wanted to warn you in case you’re too fucking stupid to know better. I mean, half-breed and all.” She shrugged, tiny bells attached to her wings tinkling from the movement.

  Quinn looked scandalized, but I was used to the casual contempt toward half-breeds. That’s probably why there were so few of us.

  “So glad I saved you. The world is a better place now,” I drawled.

  “Hey, Fucko, I didn’t mean anything by it. I don’t have a problem with your half-breed status. I mean”—she looked me up and down—“you’re pretty good lookin’ for a dragon. I’d do you.”

  I heard Quinn sputtering beside me.

  “Wow. How exactly did you remain a virgin?” I asked.

  “I know, right? I mean, look at this.” She placed her hands under her breasts and shoved them against my nose. “Pretty hot, huh?”

  “Mmm.” I went for noncommittal, but she took it as agreement. She leaned her elbow against my nose, striking a pose.

  “So what did happen?” Quinn asked, his face pinched in disapproval.

  “Hey, you let your cute whore talk?” she said to me. “You’re an okay guy.”

  “I endeavor.” I placed my other hand on Quinn’s arm to rein him in, since he looked like he was about to squash the sprite like a bug.

  She made a show of checking Quinn out, obviously liking what she saw.

  “Well, little human slut, to put it simply, I got sold out. That’s the fucking truth. Our woods got a bad case of pubicpine crabs and we needed some Nixit Fixit powder to stop that particular itch, but that shit’s expensive. My kinfolk traded me because I was so fucking stupid to hang on to my virginity. Thought I’d keep it until I fell in love.” She spat onto my palm. “Fucking dumbass idea.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Anyway, I wanted to warn you not to be a moron and go after Burningwood, 'cuz that sprite is evil and even worse”—she lowered her voice—“ugly.” She looked around like she wanted to make sure no one else overheard us. “I don’t even think she likes sex.”

  “No?”

  “See! Fucked up.” She pushed off from my nose and pulled a nail file from the bosom of her gown, started buffing her nails. “Then there’s that zombie shit and stuff.”

  “Zombie shit?” Quinn’s voice came out reedy.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Rumor is Burningwood has a penchant for turning the living into the walking dead. Not a good quality in my book.”

  Quinn swallowed. “No, not in mine either.”

  “So, is she still skulking around in Rottingvale Quagmire?” I asked.

  “Yep. Far as I know,” the sprite answered. “You planning on going after her?”

  “What do you think?”

  “That you’re even dumber than you look. Your life. Tried to warn you.” She patted my nose. “Good luck, half-breed. You too, cute human whore. Well, gotta go get laid. Not going through this clusterfuck again.”

  With that she flew off.

  “She was . . . nice,” Quinn finally said.

  I grinned.

  “Glad you saved her?”

  “Um, all life has value,” Quinn said.

  “Keep telling yourself that.” I patted him on the shoulder and we continued on our way.

  7

  “But I want to go with you.” Quinn paced my living room the next morning, his hands raking through his golden hair. It stuck up at odd angles, but was rather endearing. His scent was also driving me crazy. It made me horny and oddly content all at once. I took a few discreet whiffs to see if he’d added another pheromone to his skin, but all I smelled was him. Besides, I saw a mound of the sprays in the garbage this morning, much to my relief. So, just his natural smell. And my dragon liked it. So did the rest of me.

  Quinn didn’t seem to notice my interest as he kept splitting his attention between glaring at me and at the charmed bracelet I’d fastened on his wrist to keep him from being able to leave my domain.

  I grunted, turning my attention to scan a letter from my father that appeared only moments ago. He’d already heard about my run-in with Rainbowpebbles. Of course he had. My father seemed to know everything that went on in the Elder. The typical tripe ran through the message: you’re a bad son, you’re an embarrassment to the Starfig name, blah, blah, blah.

  I crumpled the letter and tossed it into the fire pit. Wished I could produce a tiny trickle of fire to burn it up. It would be so satisfying. But, no use wishing. It just wasn’t going to happen, though at times it seemed almost within reach.

  “Well?” Quinn demanded.

  “Did you not hear the part about zombies? No way.” I finished packing my oversized knapsack with necessities, shaking off the heavy feeling contact with my father—even in note form—left behind.

  “I can help!”

  “Like you did with Rainbowpebbles? I really don’t need that kind of help, Quinn. Besides, I should be back tomorrow sometime. You can just hang out here. Don’t you want some free time?”

  “First of all, Rainbowpebbles was going to say no to your stone.” Quinn tugged absently at the charmed bracelet. “I just tried to sweeten the pot—”

  “No, you undermined my bargaining and put me in an embarrassing position. You had no business being there and you’re lucky I’m not inclined to beat you.”

  He sniffed. “You would have won regardless.”

  “You didn’t know that at the time. For all you knew, I could have sucked.”

  “I had faith in you.”

  “Misplaced.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I don’t know why the cards rearrange themselves for me,” I said, my volume increasing with each word spoken. “All I can say is that they do. That second deck held some really powerful magic, and what if the cards hadn’t rearranged themselves?”

  “But they did.”

  I scrubbed a hand over my face. He must drive Brandsome crazy. What kind of indentured servant talked back the way he did? Then again, I was pretty sure Brandsome was willing to use methods I wasn’t in order to guarantee compliance.

  “You don’t have any magic, Quinn. I’ve never dealt with zombies before, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to be extremely unpleasant.”

  “Which is why you need someone to watch your back.” He rummaged around in his sack and pulled out a small bag filled with greenish powder. “Sir Blaive the Quick’s Grave Dust. Guaranteed to scorch the undead into little piles of ash.”

  “I’m going to ignore the weirdness of you carrying around powder to randomly torch undead creatures.”

  “It’s not that weird.”

  “Uh yeah. It is. But anyway I can take it with me.” I held out my hand. He gripped it close to his chest.

  “No. I want to go along.”

  I sighed. “Look, what gives, Quinn? Why do you want to go? It’s going to be dangerous. This is the second time you’ve insisted on putting yourself in harm’s way. Seriously, do you have a death wish?”

  “Of course not. I just, well, I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
>
  “Try me.”

  “I . . . I can’t.”

  “Then buh-bye.” I gave him a finger wave, snatched up my bag and headed for the door.

  “Twig, please, wait!”

  I paused at the door. Yeah, I knew I was being foolish. Rottingvale Quagmire was no place for a human. No place for a half-dragon-half-fairy either. Except I had a job to do.

  “Brandsome wasn’t completely honest with you when he signed over my papers.”

  I sighed. “What do you mean?”

  “Being Brandsome’s pet,”—he said the word like it tasted bad, and I guess I couldn’t blame him for that—“I still have to do what he says. Mostly.”

  “Uh huh. And now you belong to me. So you’re supposed to do what I say.”

  “True . . . but it’s like having two masters.”

  “Explain.” He had my attention now.

  “You own me temporarily, but I still belong to Brandsome. While I’m supposed to follow your orders, I also have my orders from Brandsome. He tracks me through the collar. And he wants me to go with you to, um, keep an eye on you.”

  “He’s afraid I’ll keep the horn once I get it?” I could hardly be more offended. He might as well have called me a thief.

  “Well, you are a half-dragon. And dragons do like to add to their hoards, right?” Quinn winced when he said it, like it wasn’t his idea.

  “If he’s so worried, why did he hire me?” I snapped. Brandsome could go get his own damn horn and shove it where the sun didn’t shine as far as I was concerned.

  “Because . . . because he heard you’re the best. And Brandsome likes the best of everything.”

  I grumbled, but his compliment mollified me somewhat. Until I thought through his words. “Wait. When did you speak with Brandsome?”

  He froze in place, his mouth working but no sound coming out.

  “Quinn, I asked you a question. And how exactly did you contact him?”

  “I-I didn’t.”

  “Then how do you know he wants you to go with me?”

  “Um, you promise you won’t get mad?”

  “No. But if you don’t answer my questions right now, I can promise you I will.”

  He flinched, then took a deep breath. “He planned on trading me to you the whole time.”

  “What? Why?”

  “For the reason I just said. He wants me to keep an eye on you.”

  “So he maneuvered it in such a way that I’d be inclined to keep you?”

  “Your reputation as a, um, voracious, uh, connoisseur of Elder creatures is well known in certain circles. He assumed you’d jump at the chance to, ah, spend time with a human.”

  “You can just say I enjoy sex.” I tried not to grin. Failed miserably.

  He actually blushed. How was it possible that a bed slave blushed when talking about sex? Just one more oddity that made up Quinn Broomsparkle. And why wasn’t I more angry about being tricked? I should be furious. But I wasn’t. Not when Quinn was turning out to be such an entertaining human.

  “Anyway, that’s why I need to go, too.”

  My smile fell away. “I work alone. Brandsome will just have to trust that I won’t steal his precious horn.”

  Quinn’s shoulders drooped. “Okay.”

  “You’re giving up just like that?” Something smelled foul in Lighthelm tonight if he thought I’d believe that.

  He grimaced. “Brandsome’s punished me before. I can take it.” His jaw firmed, like he was trying to convince himself.

  “What do you mean by punished?” I had a bad feeling about this.

  Quinn shrugged. “He’ll beat me and probably lease me to Heloise the Hellhound’s Whore House for a week or two to remind me how good I have it. He’ll take away my voice, too, so the screams don’t bother the customers. Heloise lets her customers get a little rough. But I’ve survived it before, I can do so again.”

  “Are we flying?” Quinn looked at my back for the telltale sign of wings.

  “Yes.” I pointed at an old magic carpet I won in a game of cards against a minotaur. The carpet was moth eaten and reeked of manticore dung, but it still managed to get off the ground. Most of the time. The steering was a little wonky, though.

  “You have to be kidding.”

  “You can always stay here.”

  “No, no, I’m going.” Quinn looked at the carpet, distrust written in every line of his handsome face. “You sure this thing can fly?”

  “Of course.” Hopefully. I crossed my fingers behind my back, so he wouldn’t see.

  I gave the carpet a couple good shakes to get out as much of the dirt and grime as possible before I placed my palm on the design in the middle of the weave.

  The rug began to glow, lavender sparks shooting from it.

  Quinn raised an eyebrow, yet managed to keep quiet.

  Impressive.

  He waited for my signal to mount the carpet. Once I situated myself with my knapsack in front, I indicated he should climb on and wrap his arms around me.

  Quinn gingerly slid onto the rug, and clasped me lightly around the middle, touching me in as few places as possible.

  “You’re going to fall off,” I chided, pulling his legs toward me until his groin was snug against my ass. A jolt of heat licked down my spine and I had the strangest urge to submit. Hadn’t expected that. My dragon never allowed anyone the upper hand. I cleared my throat. “Hold tight and whatever you do, don’t let go.”

  His arms tightened and we were off. He squawked when the carpet shot into the air then proceeded to dive bomb the road below, only to pull out at the last second and soar back into the clouds.

  “Dust and ashes! This thing is going to kill us!” Quinn shouted.

  I chuckled.

  “Nah, its spells are just old. It always does this. I haven’t crashed yet.”

  “There’s always a first tiiiimmme!” he screeched as the carpet nose-dived once again.

  Because of the rug’s up and down trajectory, we didn’t make fast headway, but we managed to clear Lighthelm before lunchtime. Once out of the city, the protective fields of colorful midsummer surprise surrounded us. Midsummer surprise sounded so harmless, but as in all things fairy, the lush blooms held a nasty shock for any army stupid enough to try to invade the capital. Fanged and clawed flowers were only the first line of defense Lighthelm sported, and definitely nowhere near the last.

  I could already see the Expanse in the distance. The desert was made up of large, shifting sand dunes going for miles in all directions. Easy enough to get turned around in the Expanse, though being airborne made a big difference. I wouldn’t want to walk through it on foot, though.

  We kept going until we neared the closest edge of the desert. We’d cross it after lunch. Angling us downward, we rocketed toward the ground before slamming hard and careening wildly sideways. We narrowly missed a tree and came to a skidding halt. Quinn stayed wrapped around my back tighter than my knapsack.

  Once we finally landed, I waited for him to let go. His hands remained securely fastened around my middle.

  “You can let go now,” I said.

  He nodded, but stayed mashed up against me. It was kind of nice, but I didn’t want to get used to the idea. He’d made it pretty clear he didn’t want to be anyone’s sex toy and I would respect that, no matter how my dragon nature urged me to get to know him better. Preferably naked.

  “That means you need to unlock your hands.”

  “I can’t.”

  I peered over my shoulder. His face had a distinctly greenish cast and his breath came in short gasps.

  “Hey, hey, nothing to get too worked up about. We’re okay.”

  “T-that had to be the scariest ride of my life,” he sputtered, finally releasing me and rolling quickly off the rug. “You’re crazy to ride that thing.”

  “Meh. So far, so good. Besides, I rather like the feeling of flight.”

  He walked in a circle shaking his arms and legs out, his face slowly returning
to a normal shade. When he stopped he said, “Hey, can’t you fly? Both fairies and dragons have wings, right? Wouldn’t it be easier if you transformed and carried me?”

  “I’m not a horse. I don’t carry people.” As if I could. Quinn seemed to have a knack for asking uncomfortable questions. Ignoring him, I dug around in my sack and pulled out some squished bread, three-horned jackalope jerky, and a large skin of water.

  “So instead we risk our necks on a crazy-assed carpet? Well, I guess, just my neck since you would shift before you hit the ground.”

  “Let’s eat.” I sat under the tree that had almost ended our existence and began to consume our meal. I held out his portion.

  He narrowed his eyes and joined me. Before he could follow up on his question—because it was obvious he wanted to—I decided to change subjects. I said the first thing that came to mind.

  “So, tell me about your tattoos. I hear humans like to mark up their skin.”

  He jerked liked I slapped him. Apparently he wasn’t the only one asking awkward questions.

  “Why do you want to know?” He clamped his teeth on a piece of the jerky and proceeded to shred it like an angry ghoul. I appreciated a creature who used food to convey emotion.

  “Dunno. Just curious, I guess. It’s not something fairies are able to do.” I shrugged, but we both knew it was a deliberately casual gesture. He’d really piqued my interest. What was the big deal about a tattoo, anyway? Just ink on skin, right?

  He continued chewing, giving me the definite stink eye. After he swallowed and washed the jerky down with a slug of water from the skin, he tilted his head in a gesture I was coming to realize meant he was using that brain of his to come up with something to distract or mollify me.

  “Tell you what,” he said, “I’ll tell you all about the tattoos if you tell me why you don’t want to talk about your wings.”

  I crunched down on the jerky, chomping as vigorously as he had a moment ago. Nosy human. We continued eating in silence.

  When we finished, I packed up the water skin, then sighed. “I don’t like to talk about it because I can’t fly.”

  “I don’t understand. You have wings, don’t you?”