by Rigel, LK
A rush of good feeling flowed into her. She loved everyone in the world, and she laughed aloud with sheer joy.
“Far out, pretty bird.”
A man’s slender hand gripped her shoulder and turned her around, surprisingly strong, and she looked into eyes the color of light purple lilacs. The guy was dressed like a highwayman, down to the cape and tri-corner hat.
He took in her costume and said, “Or should I say groovy?” His open silk shirt exposed a lean, muscled chest.
“What stall is selling these?” Beverly asked.
He had one of those necklaces woven of cords. The choker fit snugly around his throat, and an elaborate macramé of beads and glass and small jewels extended to his sternum. Real stones, if she wasn’t mistaken, garnets and emeralds and sapphires. There was the same cut metal jewel at the center.
She reached out to touch the jewel, but a wave of dread swept over her. Something was wrong, dangerous. She pulled her hand away and stepped backwards.
“I’m Aubrey.” He smiled seductively.
She backed away. He stood firm and held her with his gaze. Though the crowd filled in between them, she felt bound to him. She had the sudden notion his clothes weren’t a costume. There was something other about him, something magical. Fairy-like, but dark.
His eyes weren’t any human color, but all the fairies she’d met so far had green eyes.
Aubrey was relentless and bedazzling, and her free will began to dissolve. She searched for a lifeline, an anchor. A flute solo from a Jethro Tull song rose above the crowd noise, and she focused on the melody’s dancing trills.
She broke free of Aubrey’s hold and moved closer to the fountain. The flute player was there wearing a Cleopatra costume. Two Roman senators picked their way toward her through people occupying every inch of the fountain steps. One Roman carried a violin and the other hauled a stand-up bass. A guy on the steps was dressed like an astronaut.
Beverly’s heart raced with fear. She’d made a mess of time again, and it was all mixed up. A shaft of sunlight hit the statue atop the fountain, an Eros with drawn bow. On the steps below, couples kissed, oblivious as to who watched.
No, wait. This was 1976. Her time. Mischief Night. She’d stepped on the white rabbit’s foot and he’d given her a brownie. Time wasn’t bent. The brownie must have been laced with a mind-bending surprise. She was high.
The threesome of Antony and Cleopatra and Julius Caesar finished tuning to each other and launched into a chamber music version of Classical Gas. The listeners applauded briefly in recognition and went back to making out.
Musical notes tripped over the air and teased Beverly with little pelts of vibration against her skin. She should have stayed and talked to Dandelion. She shouldn’t have been so proud, so embarrassed he’d forgotten her. She should have reminded him they’d sky-surfed the northern lights.
“Groovy.”
Aubrey with the lilac eyes had followed her. Not so scary, now she realized she was high. “Hello again.” His insistent desire radiated outward and penetrated her as easily as the music.
She put her palm against his skin and answered, “Groovy.”
It was so funny. He was so funny.
He said, “It’s a beautiful world.”
“Beautiful.” She nodded. “Everything. Everyone.”
“Times like this, I believe the universe is one freaking organism.” His smile was like sunshine. Eight bars of music went by. She considered following them, but Aubrey started talking again. “Have you found what you came for?”
“What do you think I came for?”
Whether from the brownie or the music or the general excitement in the air or Aubrey’s magic, she was aroused. Excited. And afraid at the same time.
He looked at her lips, and it felt like they sizzled. “Why don’t I tell you what I came for,” he said.
His eyelashes were as yellow as his hair. His lips were sensuous and soft-looking. She imagined them on her neck. And other places. Like the song said, she could move, really move.
What was she about to do with her life? In this marriage of convenience, did Lord Dumnos expect she’d never be with a man again?
Aubrey leaned so close his lips brushed against her ear. “I came for you.” He nibbled at her earlobe with a soft murmur. A shock of heat flashed from her ear downward. Her nipples hardened, and she felt wet and anxious.
“What do you want from me?” She didn't want him. He wasn’t Dandelion. She should walk away. This minute. Aubrey pressed one finger gently against her throat in the dip where the collarbones met.
“I want more from you than anyone ever will.”
“Oh.” Her pulse quickened and beat against his finger.
“I want to sing to you, and I want you to hear me in the depth of your soul. I want to dance with you, and I want to lead.”
Her lips parted, and her breath came in short pants.
“I want to strip you naked and lick every inch of your skin. I want to plunge inside you and feel your heat. I want you to pull me deeper into you than you ever imagined possible.”
She opened her mouth wider, but no words would come out. Aubrey moved his finger to her lips. She was so hot. Throbbing. From behind her came a seething animalistic growl. Two strong hands gripped her shoulders.
“This one’s from Tintagos Village, Aubrey.” Dandelion! He was there at her back. She wanted to lean against him. She wanted him to extend his wings and wrap them around her, right here, right now, and carry her away. “Idris wouldn’t approve.”
Aubrey’s gaze shifted upward, behind her, and a smirk spread over his face. “I’d heard Idris let you out, but I didn’t believe it.”
“Cissa wanted me.” Dandelion stepped between Beverly and Aubrey. “Or I wouldn’t have come.”
He was lying. Beverly was certain he was in London for the fairy cup.
“And whatever Cissa wants Cissa gets, eh?” Aubrey said. “I fear our regent is besotted.” His gaze rested on Dandelion’s choker. “It’s good to see you back on your tether. Going solitary can’t be good for your mental health.”
“Move along.” Dandelion’s loathing was unmistakable.
Aubrey glanced at Beverly with a smirk—and a look of contempt that turned her stomach. “I didn’t mean to interfere, my prince.” He fingered the large jewel in his necklace, and before she could think of a clever remark he evaporated into nothing.
Dandelion led her to the fountain. A guy and girl on the steps wearing chokers rose and pulled their partners to their feet to give Dandelion a place to sit. The guy with the choker wore a t-shirt that said disco sucks. He appraised Beverly from head to foot with a lecherous grin.
“Nice shirt, Fen,” Dandelion said. “You and Violet be off. Get the others out of here, into the parks. And check in with Cissa before dark.”
The human guy put his arm around Violet’s waist and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Green Park is gear,” he said.
Violet and Fen exchanged a sly look and led their partners away. Beverly was sure they were up to no good, but Dandelion didn’t seem concerned.
They sat on the steps, and his thigh brushed against hers, bare but for the fishnet stockings. She felt a rush of longing for him, but confusingly Aubrey’s hold on her lingered. Dandelion lifted a lock of her wig’s hair and held it to his nose. He dropped it with relief and said, “Look at me.”
“Do you mean to look into my soul?”
“I mean to look at your dilated pupils.”
“The world is so beautiful. You’re so beautiful, Dande- …”
He put his finger on her lips. A fiery light flashed in his eyes like a warning. “The world is indeed beautiful, but I have a feeling your bliss is drug-induced. You didn’t accept any edible gifts from a large white rabbit, did you?”
“Oh, did Alice find him?”
He grinned. “Someone once told me after a hundred years that book would still be read. Humans haven’t lost their sense of wonder. There’s hope
for them yet.”
It was me! I told you about Alice in Wonderland! She wanted to pound his chest, make him look at her. Make him see her.
“Don’t move,” he said. He disappeared into the crowd. He was right about the white rabbit’s brownie. Its euphoric effects were turning to paranoia. It felt like Aubrey was still with her. His violet eyes were so mesmerizing. She could feel his breath on her neck.
“Hold this.” Dandelion had returned with a paper cup filled with lemonade. He sprinkled fairy dust on the drink from one of the leather pouches on his belt and stirred it with a straw. His shirt sleeves were still pushed up.
“This is one of my sister’s remedies. Drink it.”
The lemonade had a grassy taste, but it wasn’t unpleasant. With the first sip, the sense of Aubrey’s presence fell away. “I don’t know what Aubrey did to me.”
Dandelion chuckled. “His magic is strong, but you had a kick-start.”
“He was intense.” She took another sip of the lemonade. “Thank you for getting me away from him.”
“I was doing him a favor,” Dandelion said. “Idris let him come to Sarumos—London—for one reason: to keep an eye on me. Definitely not to play with someone from Tintagos.”
Wrong response. She wanted him to say I had to get him away from you. I don’t want anyone to touch you but me.
“Your camera looks real.” She had to find a safe topic. Something meaningless. Something that wouldn’t end in her inviting him to the Dorchester to take a shower together. “Good costume. You make a convincing photographer.”
“Photojournalist,” he said. “It is real. This city has changed.” He snapped a picture of a passing double-decker bus then turned to shoot the statue above the fountain. “I’m glad the Anteros is still here.”
“Anteros?” Beverly said. “Isn’t that Eros, the god of desire?” Stop. Desire is not a safe topic.
“Many make that mistake,” he said. “Anteros is Eros’s twin. Eros represents desire. Anteros represents delight, mature love. Selfless love. The best kind, according to your people.”
“My people?” Beverly said. “At the Tragic Fall right now, my people are getting pissed and telling ghost stories. None would spend two minutes together considering the difference between Eros and Anteros.”
Dandelion held out his hand. “Stand up. Let me take your picture.”
“Sure.” She set the paper cup down and stood up as he backed away. He squatted and said, “From this angle, Anteros is on your shoulder.” He smiled, and her heart swelled. All her cares fell away. She could spend a lifetime remembering that smile.
He clicked off a few shots and came back to her. “You’re protected by the best kind of love.”
She picked up the lemonade. He somehow brushed against the cup and managed to spill the rest of the liquid on himself.
“Ack!” He reached for his choker. “You’ve drenched it.”
“But I didn’t—” Before Beverly could say anything more, his warning look stopped her.
He pulled off the choker and slipped it into his smaller pouch while he surveyed the people on the steps and in the street nearby. “No tethers that I can see,” he said with a sigh of relief.
He took her into his arms and pulled her close to his chest. His kiss drove away all thoughts and left but one emotion burning inside her—a raging desire most definitely inspired by the other kind of love.
The Fairy Cup Redux
THE MUSIC STOPPED AND the kiss went on. The neon signs of Piccadilly Circus flickered and glowed, celebrating Dandelion’s warm and insistent kiss. For a moment, Beverly was in freefall again, the northern lights flashing all around. The world made sense.
“Goldy said you’d come,” Dandelion said softly, “but I didn’t let myself believe him.”
“What do you mean?”
Cleopatra and Caesar finished packing up their things while Antony waved down a taxi. As Antony and the driver loaded their instruments, another bus drove by and Dandelion winced. “Let’s get out of here.”
They left the Circus on Regent and turned on Jermyn Street. A million thoughts raced through Beverly’s brain. The tethers, as Dandelion called them, signified fairies. But while he was wearing his, he didn’t know her—or pretended not to.
“It’s all happened just as you told us,” Dandelion said. “Goldy kept an eye on you while you grew up. He was there on the Ring, and he pulled you and your sister from the wreck.”
“But if he knew the accident was going to happen…”
“He couldn’t save your parents, Beverly. He could do no more and no less than you’d said he did or the time line would have been disturbed. It’s why I had to wait to see you until after your return to this time from Mudcastle.”
They stopped in front of St. James’s Church. Dandelion glanced up at the trees in its courtyard and relaxed somewhat.
“You don’t know how hard it was, knowing you were alive in the world and not being able to see you. I had to ensure you wouldn’t know me at Mudcastle. That had to be the first time we met because it was the first time we met. Otherwise, everything might have changed. You might never have come. The cup might never have left Faeview.”
“The cup.” Of course. That’s what he really cared about.
Another cab drove by, and Dandelion grimaced again and leaned against her. “What’s wrong?” she said. “Something is hurting you.”
“I have to get off the street. Away from all this cold iron.” He held her close. The trees and the street blurred, and when the world came back into focus they were inside the church. One man sat with his back to them in the pews near the nave, and an old lady examined the wall plaques. Otherwise, the church was empty.
“I sensed a square nearby, but I don’t think I could have made it,” Dandelion said.
“What is it? What’s making you sick?”
“The cold iron. The motorcars are full of it. It depletes my magic and makes my bones ache.”
He pressed his forehead against the wood pew in front of him and gripped it with both hands. Did fairies pray? If so, was it to the god of the priests and vicars or to the high gods? This lovely church was as beautiful as human hands could fashion. Not intimidating. Homey and comforting. Just the sort of place fairies she’d think fairies would feel welcome.
Please help him, Beverly prayed to any god who would listen. She didn’t think Brother Sun and Sister Moon would mind.
“Wood, brick, marble.” Dandelion inhaled and exhaled with renewed vigor. “Much better.”
He laid his choker over his knee, with the bright cut jewel facing away.
“That’s what these do” Beverly touched the black cord. It was soft like satin. “Protect you from the iron.”
“Yes.”
Dandelion covered her hand with his. She was aware of its strength on the back of her hand, and his thigh under her palm.
“The jewel is goblin-made, cut from Dumnos iron,” he said. “When it touches a pulse point, it creates an instant portal to the faewood.”
“Then your banishment is over,” Beverly said. “You’re back in the faewood.”
“No, I'm at Mudcastle. I won’t return, not while Idris rules the Dumnos fae.” He traced the tether until his fingers met hers. “I came to London through a series of portals, and I’ll go back the same way. The tether is Idris’s doing. He let me leave Mudcastle on the condition I wear it while I’m in the city.”
“Why? That makes no sense.”
“He told Cissa it was for my safety.”
“And you don’t believe that.”
“It’s so he can keep track of me,” Dandelion said. “Idris has a unique glimmer glass in which he can see anyone wearing a tether. He thinks no one knows.”
“That’s why you didn’t wear them at Mudcastle.”
“Morning Glory created the portal so she and the others wouldn’t need tethers to visit. Idris had become so paranoid, always watching.”
It wasn’t much different in
the human realm, Beverly thought. Just last season, CCTV was put in for all soccer matches.
“Dandelion, how did Goldy know I’d be here today, here in London?”
“Because he suggested it. He and Dumnos have become close, if you know what I mean.”
“Suggested what, exactly?”
“He encouraged Dumnos to loan the cup to the museum for the centennial. And…” Dandelion’s face went blank and he turned away. His voice flattened. “And that Dumnos make you his bride.”
His words hit like a blow to the gut. “You want me to marry Lord Dumnos.”
“I want you to wear silk and satin and flowers in your hair. I want you to be free of worry. I don’t want you serving ale to the descendants of the Sarumen.”
He checked the other two humans in the church to make sure they weren’t watching and stood up. “At the moment, I want to fix this.” He tossed fairy dust over her.
As the dust settled, Cissa’s go-go girl costume disappeared, replaced by a sleeveless, low-cut black satin cocktail dress and a white and gold velvet burnout bolero. Beverly’s hair was piled on her head. She reached up and felt live flowers tucked into an intricate pattern of braids.
She ran her hands over the dress’s smooth satin and stood up. “Ouch!” Her toes felt like they were breaking. She was wearing glass slippers. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Joking.” Dandelion changed her shoes to soft red pumps with spiked heels. “You’re beautiful.” He kissed her forehead. “Perfect to attend the opening of the fairy exhibit at the Victoria & Albert Museum, featuring Bausiney’s Abundance.”
It occurred to Beverly she had a conflict of interest here. Dandelion intended to take the cup, and she wished him success. It rightfully belonged to the Dumnos fae, not to Faeview. On the other hand, it would devastate the earl. Lord Dumnos had been so good to her and Marion. She owed him some degree of loyalty.
At the church door, Dandelion smoothed the furrow between her eyebrows. “You won’t be implicated. Lord Dumnos will have no quarrel with you.” He glanced from her dress to his leather vest and pants and frowned. “This won’t do.”
