Blackbirds & Bourbon

by Heather R. Blair

  “We heard, Seph.” For the first time her voice takes on an edge. “We were going crazy, not knowing how to get to you. Ana couldn’t see you at all. Said you dropped off the face of the earth. Then Jett finally showed up and apparated in. Jack found us just after she brought you out. He stumbled from the woods right next to where we were parked. He was way pissed. Something about a satyr?”

  “Yeah. Kevin. He’s probably dead.” Or not. A knife through the jugular isn’t necessarily permanent. Not for an FTC.

  “I can’t believe Luna did that to you.” Her eyes are quiet and sad.

  “Yeah, me, too, sissie. Me fucking too.”

  There is a stirring of wind and suddenly Jack appears next to me, bringing with him the smell of pine and smoke…and blood.

  His sweater is still torn and dirty, speckled with red-brown streaks of drying blood, damp and dingy. His hair is standing up in dark, jagged spikes, as if he’s been running his hands through it again, and his eyes are a bit wild. I can’t move, my insides tight and still as I stare at him. I think of everything that nasty Cerunnos said.

  Carly clears her throat and slides into the passenger seat without a word, closing the door.

  “Hey,” Jack reaches out, pressing something into my limp hands, curling my fingers around hard edges that feel familiar. I look down.

  It’s my spare glasses. The old ones I keep in the top drawer of my dresser. I blink at them, then up at him, my throat closing. “Did you sneak into my room to get these?” I squeak.

  He shrugs, and even I can tell the nonchalance is feigned. My sisters aren’t the only ones I scared today. “I could put them back.”

  I slip them on, sighing in relief as everything comes back into focus and my stomach finally starts to settle. “Thanks,” I say quietly, slumping back against the car, listening to the lake and the gentle hiss of wind.

  “Cerunnos took back the stone.” Jack says after a moment and I can feel his eyes on my face.

  “Well, it practically jumped out of my pocket to get to him.”

  Jack shakes his head slowly. “I doubt that. It was probably Loki.”

  “Loki? It was dark in that cave, but I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed Tom Hiddleston hanging around.”

  Folding his arms, Jack gives me an exasperated look. I shrug, but now I’m remembering that soft laugh behind me, right after the stone rolled free. That flash of a smile somewhere between cruel and insane. I know Loki’s real and all. Most of Norse mythology is. Jack himself is one of their oldest stories, but I’ve never met one of the actual gods. They tend to stay in Europe, closer to their origins, where they’re stronger.

  “Loki’s on the Dark Council?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” Jack looks annoyed. “He hangs out anywhere he can be assured of making trouble. He must have sensed the stone on you and decided to have some fun.”

  I don’t really give a shit about Loki. I care that my one foolproof shot at beating the Council’s inquiry is gone. I’m furious at myself, or I would be if I weren’t so damn tired. It isn’t Loki’s fault I lost the stone. It’s mine. If I had let Merry take me home, or Jack …or just resisted Ivo and Kevin in the first place. I sigh and watch the water. “So it was Cerunnos’s stone all along. That’s what you meant in the cave?”

  Jack sighs. “Yes. Tyr must have stolen it from him. If Cerunnos finds out it was Tyr, he’s dead.”

  “Couldn’t Cernunnos just force me to hold the stone and tell him who gave it to me?”

  “Doesn’t work like that, princess. You have to take the stone and answer of your own free will. The answers can’t be forced.” He hesitates. “Did Cerunnos say anything else? I only heard the last few seconds.”

  Huh. Talk about fishing, Jack.

  “Nothing much I didn’t already know.” I tilt my head, trying to figure out his expression. It’s not like I trusted Jack before and it’s not like I can believe anything the leader of the Dark Council said either, but I feel like some of the knots unraveling between us have twisted up again. I don’t want Jack here.

  He looks at me, eyes shuttering as if he heard my unspoken words. “I should go.”

  “Yes. I imagine Cerunnos will want to know where you were for the excitement.”

  He gives me a look that I can’t begin to read. “Tell me, was this worth getting your precious answers, princess?”

  Jack’s gone before I can reply, but we both know I got nothing but more questions. Along with an ache in my gut that goes deeper than the cut Tyr’s fucked-up sword made. Not to mention a new resolve.

  The despair is still there, like a bad taste in the back of my throat. But I swallow it down. With or without the stone, I’m not giving up so easily again.

  And if it does come down to letting those fuckers take me out, I’m at least going to take a few of them with me.

  Night is falling before we pass Brighton Beach and slide back into town. Few roads but the main ones are cleared yet, but Carly manages some subtle magic that clears ours as Ana drives. To my surprise, my oldest sister hasn’t said much. Maybe having a female alpha try to gut her softened Ana up some. Or maybe the silent treatment is Ana’s way of driving home the guilt festering inside me. I’m betting on the latter.

  “I’m going to bed,” I announce to the car at large before heading into the house, slamming my door behind me. Neither Carly nor Ana move. I assume they’re going to talk about me amongst themselves. I don’t even care.

  Much.

  I feel hollow inside. Carved up and empty.

  Jett’s at the kitchen table when I go by, cleaning her sword. I can’t help a shiver at the sight of her crystal blade. I’ve had enough of swords. She beat us home, but then her power makes that easy. She may have been dozens of places since she left us. I wonder where she’s been disappearing so much lately and why. But my own bullshit doesn’t leave room for figuring out hers.

  The overheard light gleams on her black hair, lending the jagged ends a bluish cast. Is it my imagination or does she look a little pale? She’s wearing a black ribbed tank with the T&T logo. The sleek muscles in her arms flex under the colorful tapestry that is her skin as she rubs the blade down. Jett isn’t completely sleeved, but nearly. No roses and butterflies for my sister. Her tats are a complex montage of the arcane and familiar. My own face watches me from near the top of her shoulder. Jett had all of us inked on her left arm years ago. Mom is in the middle, and the rest of my sisters and I float in the tendrils of her hair, like the faces of mermaids peeping out through drifting seaweed. Right now all those eyes look accusing.

  Jett lifts an eyebrow but doesn’t look at me. “What? You waiting around for a lecture or something? That’s not really my forte. I’m sure Ana will oblige, though, if you hang out for much longer.”

  “No, thanks, I’m going to bed. But I wanted to say—I mean, Carly told me you got me out of there, so—”

  “Spare us both the gratitude thing. Carly saved your life, not me. Snatching you from under Tyr’s nose is all the thanks I need. You should have seen his face. Assassin of the realm, my ass.” With a smirk, she lifts her blade, twisting it this way and that to examine the cutting edge for nicks. I’ve seen this ritual more times that I can remember. It’s almost soothing. Light spills down the crystal surface, casting little slices of rainbows on the kitchen walls. Jett’s sword is a lot like Tyr’s, both longswords, both beautiful and very deadly. Though neither is as deadly as their respective owners.

  I eye my sister, wondering what she thinks about what happened today, or about the inquiry, or about any of it, really. Jett’s always been our enigma. Kind of like Stephen is to the bruins. The one no one can ever quite figure out. I know she cares about me in an abstract sort of way, but I can’t tell if she’s mad right now or not.

  I linger in the doorway, unable to leave, but not sure why.

  She blows out a breath, making me jump. Jett sets her sword on the table with a graceful flick of her wrist and glares at me from under her f
ringe. “Stop looking at me like that. We both know what you did today. And while the protective older sister role isn’t really one I embrace, you try that shit again, Seph, and it won’t be Tyr’s sword you’ll have to worry about.”

  Alrighty then. At least I know where we stand. “I love you, too, Jett.”

  She snorts and flips me the bird. With a tired smile, I turn away. But not before I see her other hand tighten on the hilt of her sword, gripping it so tightly her knuckles turn white. I flinch.

  I can take Jett being pissed. Jett being scared? Not so much.

  My guilt and I make our way up the stairs. I’m so drained by now every movement seems dream-like and slow.

  Then a sylph glides out of a painting in the upstairs hall, nearly stopping my heart. Cool, green and slender, like a tree waving in a strong wind, she moves around the corner and vanishes from sight. Carly and her freaking murals. You think I’d be used to it by now, but nope. Before I can move again, I hear the tinkle of wings. Fairy wings. Lots and lots of them.

  A sparkling purple cloud of fairies forms on one wall, blossoming and then shrinking, swirling like a flock of starlings. They flow toward the ceiling, dissipating until only one is left. Violet-blue wings like those of a dragonfly dart down the plaster toward me, looking all too familiar.

  Each pair of fairy wings is distinctive, like a fingerprint, no two exactly the same color or shape. They also come with a unique sound and I’ve heard this one all too often in the last month. “Rochie?”

  Like a bubble being blown from the paint, the fairy emerges and starts to peel herself from the wall. Her upper body first, along with her wings. Wings that stretch and stretch until it looks like they may snap in two. But finally the tips break loose, flapping madly, her lower body still trapped by one small foot in the wall, as if it’s stuck in a mud puddle.

  With a curse, the fairy grabs her knee in both hands and gives a mighty tug. Her foot comes free with a light popping sound, like a tiny cork from a bottle. She tumbles ass over teakettle through the air in front of me, the chime of her wings bright and angry.

  “How the hell did you do that?” I ask when she finally rights herself. I’ve seen the creatures from Carly’s paintings come to life for years, but never once have I seen a creature that already exists use one as a portal. It freaks me out, or it would, if I weren’t so damn tired.

  “Professional secret.” She gives me an arch look, smoothing her disheveled hair.

  “So, Carly’s magic lets you in? But it’s just a painting.” I stare at the mural shifting on the wall, the fairy cloud already replaced by a midnight sky dotted with stars.

  “It’s magic. And magic is never a one-way street, silly witch. Not that it was a cakewalk, but without your sister’s murals, it’s impossible for me to breach Oriane’s defenses against elemental magic.”

  “Jack got in.” Twice now. So did Luna, but Luna isn’t an elemental, either.

  “Jack is Jack.” Rochie shrugs, a sly look in her eyes.

  “Does he have to use the murals, too?”

  She sighs. “No, Seph.”

  “But… my mother had the house warded against him—him specifically.” I stop at my door, feeling stupid this never occurred to me the first time he was here. Of course, I’d been rather distracted by Jack in my bed, offering certain sexual favors.

  I can be excused if warding spells slipped my mind.

  Rochie smiles thinly. “Ahh, but her warding was done before his spell on you, now wasn’t it?”

  That bond again. Shit. “You’re telling me he’s been able to get in this house for the last nine years?”

  She shrugs, wings tinkling softly.

  I sigh. “Why are you here, Rochie?”

  “Things are coming to a head faster than I expected, Persephone. I’m…scared. You and Jack need to get a move on. I thought for sure he’d have you in bed by now.” She folds her arms, eyeing me from head to toe. “What is wrong with you?”

  My jaw drops and I lean against my bedroom door, unable to speak for several moments. “Wait…what? First you bet me I’m gonna kiss the bastard—”

  “A bet you lost,” she points out somewhat gleefully.

  “—and now you’re expecting me to full-on bang him?” Never mind I did almost exactly that in the bar last night.

  “Trust me. You want to do this. I mean, I know you already want to do it, but if you knew what was at stake, the trailer would already be rocking.”

  “I don’t have a trailer and you are a dirty little shit, aren’t you? First you’re posting full-frontal of the bears online and now you’re trying to pimp Jack out?”

  “I’m trying to save a friend.” She folds her arms and gives me a stern look. “You should try it sometime.”

  “Jack is not my friend and I don’t see how sleeping together is gonna save anyone.”

  “Not your friend?” Her cheeks flush, her eyes snapping. I take a step backward. A pissed-off fairy is nothing to trifle with. “You have no idea the things that man has done for you.”

  My head starts to pound. “Enlighten me, then.”

  “I can’t.” Rochie stomps the air with a teeny foot. “Trust me on this, okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.” I roll my eyes, my fingers curling around the doorknob and yanking it open. “Whatever.”

  “If you want to save him and save yourself, you’ll nail him good and hard before Yule, Persephone. Listen to—”

  I shut my bedroom door in her face, the blast of air tumbling her back on her ass and out of sight before the door slams shut. I can hear the sounds of her wings tinkling down the hall as I ward my room with a tired whisper.

  When I turn around, my nose flares at the faintest hint of pine and spice and smoke. Jack. My eyes flick to the dresser where I keep my spare glasses. Closing my eyes, I rub my temples, his face flashing behind my aching lids. Kind and cruel by turns. I don’t get that man, I don’t get him one little bit, and every bit of me hurts from trying. And as for what Rochie said…nope, not going there. Not tonight.

  With a sigh, I strip down and head to the shower. All of us have an en suite, except Carly, who took the only third-floor bedroom for the light for her painting.

  I linger in the blessed heat of the shower for at least a half hour, my mind blank, listening to the soothing hiss and fall of the water, unwilling or unable to think about anything that happened today. When I finally slide between the sheets of my bed, Jack’s scent still lingers, even over the vanilla-almond scent of my body wash. Maybe that’s why I dream of him.

  Maybe.

  “You’re back.”

  “It appears so.” That rough voice tickles something inside me, making my toes curl inside my boots. I’m at the skating rink at Bayfront, where I spend damn near every afternoon after school.

  Damn, he’s even more gorgeous than I remember. The guy blocking my path to the rink has these awesome misty-green eyes, thick dark lashes, and just a touch of sexy shadow on that lean jaw. A jaw that is clenched tightly at the moment. His Adam’s apple moves as I continue to stare, drawing my eyes to his throat. Jack Frost should be pale, pasty even, but his skin is deeply tanned, a smooth and utterly delicious-looking light golden brown. I press the tip of my tongue to my lips before looking away, knowing damn well I’m blushing.

  He has me on the verge of drooling and I barely know the guy. Though I’ve kissed him. Once.

  It was a few weeks ago, right here at the rink. Syana is still pissed she lost that bet. My lips curve, remembering, but my smile fades almost as quickly as it came. He vanished after that. And why not?

  Because come on, this guy is light years out of my league, not to mention about half a millennium too old for me. Dangerous. My mother said so. Jack Frost is very bad news. Steer clear.

  I love my mom, but hey, teenage girl here. You can’t say stuff like that and not expect me to be intrigued. Especially when bad comes wrapped in such a sizzling package. Speaking of packages, my gaze drops lower.

  He c
oughs, bringing my wide eyes back to his face. There’s a hint of a smirk on those full lips even as he shakes his head sternly.

  “What?”

  “I think you might be trouble, Persephone Gosse.”

  Mmm, that voice. “Funny, that’s what I’ve heard about you.”

  “I thought you said you liked trouble,” he counters.

  I did say that before, didn’t I? How lame. My cheeks heat. I was trying to be cool and suave. I should know better. “Wow, was I really that cheesy?”

  “Cheesy?” He frowns as if puzzled by the word, then his face clears. “Yeah, you were a bit. But cheese is good.” That smirk again.

  I have to laugh. Cocking his head, he watches me. I have the strangest feeling he’s learning from me, assimilating. Before I can dwell on that odd thought, he changes the subject.

  “So what are you doing here?”

  I raise my eyebrows, pointing to the rink, then the skates I’m dangling from my fingers. “I’m going to skate. Why, you want to join me?”

  He frowns, those sexy-ass lips thinning slightly as he considers the rink full of people. “I really have no idea how to do this, you know.”

  “Oh come on, don’t tell me Jack fucking Frost doesn’t know how to skate?”

  “Not that. That.” He waves a hand at the crowd. “Blend with humans. It’s been too long.” He does look tense, strained even, as he looks out over the crowded rink. I’m so surprised, I let out a giggle.

  He turns back to me, raising an eyebrow.

  “Sorry.” I can feel my cheeks heating up. Dammit. “It’s just, c’mon. Normal people are everywhere, how do you avoid them all?”

  “I stay in the forest.”

  “All the time?”

  He shrugs, those broad shoulders rising and falling in that hot-as-fuck leather jacket. Holy horned one, he’s not serious, is he? His fingers rake back through that dark hair, creating a tousled mass of spikes somehow even more appealing than before. I realize he’s not playacting. Damn. How long has it been since Jack Frost was around people anyway?