Blackbirds & Bourbon

by Heather R. Blair

  “Most folks don’t even know for sure the Dark Council is real. It’s a rumor, a fairy tale for the fairy-tale world. And there’s a lot you haven’t heard of, Seph.”

  Considering everything that’s happened lately, he has a point.

  “And it’s not as if they go about broadcasting their intent, either. They work in the shadows. Always have. For instance, you think humans were the first ones to come up with the idea of a bioweapon? Think about it.”

  Slowly, his words sink in. Merry’s history lessons begin to tie everything up with a nasty bloodred bow. “Moon madness. You’re saying it’s not a natural disease? That those bastards created it?”

  He doesn’t answer, but I don’t need him to.

  I’m sorting through everything I heard in that damn cavern. “Luna said they’d offered Owen a cure for moon madness. And if they really do have a cure, then….”

  Merry’s brown eyes gleam at me in the early morning light coming through the windows.

  Who better to make a cure than the ones who created the disease in the first place?

  “But why offer a cure at all, then?”

  “Good question. I have no idea. Maybe it was a lie,” he suggests. But he doesn’t believe that. And neither do I.

  Because a bargain was apparently struck. Tempting karma in our world is a huge risk. Magic doesn’t abide oath-breakers. Cerunnos didn’t seem like much of a risk-taker to me. He’s a stack-the-deck kind of dude. “So that’s why they formed then, the Dark Council? To wipe out the new races?”

  “Well, yes. And no. The Dark Council was originally formed of those who had… concerns about the new races. The ones that weren’t ready to throw out the welcome mat, if you get me.”

  Ahhh. And Jack was one of them. I feel sick.

  He seems to read something on my face. “In the beginning, you have to understand, it wasn’t about trying to wipe anyone out, Seph. It was all about self-preservation. Make no mistake, our whole damn world was at risk for a while. Vampires, werewolves and even witches were a god-awful menace when they first formed. The damn wolves wiping out whole villages, vampires going rogue, those Valais witch trials.” The gnome scrubs a hand over his curls again, shuddering. “They almost outed us all. The Council was pathetically ineffective. The bureaucracy and ceremony back then were enough to drive one batty. Frustration and fear drove certain members of the Council to break off to form their own order. One that took decisive action where it was needed.”

  “You’re talking about executions?”

  He shrugs. “Among other things. Before long the threat of a visit by the Dark Council was enough to rein in the destructive behavior of the new races. Things calmed down. Most of us started to accept that witches, vampires and werewolves were a part of our world.”

  “So why this Nazi crap now?”

  “Some can never forget the past. Fear is one of the strongest emotions, Seph. It can warp things…and people. With the werewolves losing control again, thanks to the moon madness, some have been pushing for the return of suppression and control measures. And well, your little demonstration that the witch prophecy is likely true didn’t help.”

  Shit.

  Merry continues after a beat. “Cerunnos, he says it’s time to up the stakes. He’s been planning this for a while now. He’s always said your races, if allowed to live, will be responsible for our downfall.”

  “And I take it he has a following, even outside the Dark Council?”

  The gnome nods darkly, reaching for the bottle again. “His views are gaining popularity, even if most don’t realize the source.”

  “Are you on the Dark Council, Merry?” I hadn’t seen a gnome-shaped shadow in that damn cavern, but Merry seems to know way too much about their inner workings.

  “I’m on the Council.”

  I stare at him, confused. “That’s not what I asked.”

  “Isn’t it?” There is a gleam again in the gnome’s eyes as he reaches for his hat on the bar. I watch him, confused and worrying at my lower lip. What the hell does he mean by that? The back of my neck prickles. But from the closed look on Merry’s face, asking him to explain that statement will get me nowhere.

  I rub my neck, thinking about everything he said and how it all fits together into one ugly-ass puzzle. There are still plenty of missing pieces. Unanswered questions and ones that piss me off.

  “I can’t believe he would be a part of this,” I mumble to myself as Merry pours himself another double.

  “Don’t be so quick to judge Frost, little lady.”

  Of course Merry knows exactly which ‘he’ I’m talking about. “Why the hell not?”

  He snorts and tosses back his drink before jumping off the stool. He’s as steady as a rock. Never try to outdrink a gnome. Though I hear Jett did it once. My head is hopping around like it’s full of Mexican jumping beans, not wanting to settle on any one thing too long for fear of what I might see.

  “Look, Jack Frost didn’t give a shit about much back when the Dark Council first formed, but he’s always had a soft spot for fairies, or at least the one. What’s his little partner’s name?”

  “Snegurochka.”

  “Yeah, that’s her. An out-of-control werewolf pack got her home razed. Humans burned that whole forest down to the ground.”

  Shit. My stomach clenches. Fairies don’t deal well with their habitat being destroyed. It’s part of the reason their numbers have dwindled so rapidly in the past few centuries. I actually feel sorry for the little bitch.

  “She nearly died from what I hear,” Merry continues. “That got through Frost’s layer of ice. After what happened to her, he joined up with bells on. But you ask me, that one’s had his own agenda for a while now.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve no idea. And that’s it for me.” He picks up his hat and shoves it on his head. “I think I’ve more than made up for what I did, Seph. It’s not like you actually got hurt now, is it? So no more playing Peeping Tom around Enger Tower looking for me, all right? Everyone already thinks you’re some kind of pervert.”

  “It was one night,” I grumble. “And talk about perverted, they were razzing me constantly about that stupid dream you witnessed. Thanks for sharing that with everyone, by the way. Like I don’t have enough embarrassing stories going around about me already.”

  Merry chuckles, brown eyes bright and far from apologetic. The gnome’s almost to the entryway when I make myself ask one last time.

  “Won’t you at least tell me why, Merry? I thought we were friends.”

  That small, but powerful frame tightens, though he doesn’t turn around. “We are friends, but I have other friends, too, Seph, ones I’ve had for a great deal longer than you.”

  “You’re saying one of these friends asked you to make sure I was at Brighton that night?” I swallow, feeling angry and sick. “Was it Jack, Merry?”

  The sound of the closing door is my only answer. Goddammit. And now I have more questions. Hundreds of them.

  Story of my fucking life.

  12

  After another drink and some seething, it seems unlikely that it was Jack who asked Merry to make sure I was at the park that night, given how angry Jack was about that incident. It could have been an act, sure, but remembering the look on his face with a shiver, I’m betting not.

  But if not Jack, then who?

  Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar? Or rather, who put the witch in the werewolves’ path?

  Hmm. I think it’s time to stop drinking. Especially given everything Merry just casually dropped in my lap. Especially that cryptic non-answer when I asked him about the Dark Council. It was weird and that disturbs me almost more than anything else he said.

  The Council has always ignored the Dark Council, pretending they don’t exist so thoroughly most FTCs believe it. They think the Dark Council’s a myth. Like I did.

  Or maybe it’s only the new races that think that. Vamps, witches and werewolves. Maybe the older ones hav
e always known the truth. Shit.

  I pour the rest of my shot down the sink and make my way upstairs to the loft, needing to get some breathing room from all the thoughts playing bumper cars in my head. I pull a cue from the rack on the wall and pick a table to work. I like pool, it has a way of clearing my mind. Plus, I’m in desperate need of distraction or I might blow something up. It’s only a hair after eight thirty, so I should have a good hour before Benji shows up.

  But before I get a chance to break, the door chimes.

  “Change your mind, Merry? Gonna give me a n—”

  The too-loud-for-a-gnome ring of boots against hardwood has me walking warily to the edge of the loft. It’s Jack who looks up at me from halfway across the empty bar, his eyes calculating, trying to judge my mood. He’s all in black today. Black jeans, a black T-shirt entirely too thin for the weather outside and the black jacket he usually only wears when he rides his bike. It would be insane to be on a motorcycle in December up here, especially after that storm we had, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

  I wouldn’t put anything past him.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  His eyebrows rise. “Checking on you, actually. Wanted to make sure you were okay after yesterday.”

  “Oh god, Jack, can we dispense with the bullshit?” I slap one hand on the railing; the wood stings my palm, adding to my anger.

  “Which bullshit in particular?” He pauses with one boot on the first step.

  “The kind where you pretend to give a crap about me. I can take you being a bastard, but I can’t take you being nice, so just fucking quit already.” I spin around and walk back to the table.

  With barely a pause, I hear the rhythmic tread of Jack’s boots as he continues up the stairs. Pissed, I grab the chalk and start working on the tip of the cue.

  He emerges at the top of the loft a minute later, leaning against the railing. I can feel the weight of his eyes on me, but I refuse to look up. “I ran into Merry outside,” he says slowly. “What was he doing here?”

  “Having a drink. It is a bar, Jack.”

  “Bar’s not open yet.”

  “And yet here you are,” I snap.

  Jack’s voice gains a dangerous vibe. “Tell me what he was doing here, Seph. Now.”

  A random thought works its way through my anger and frustration. Is he jealous? Of Merry?

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to piss off, but I decide needling him will be more satisfying. “We were talking, Jack. Though, if I was gonna mess around with a gnome, Merry would definitely be—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence.” He’s right behind me now. I can feel his heat and the scent of pine teases my nose. “It’s not Merry you’ve been dreaming of at night.”

  I spin around with a gasp, almost elbowing him in the ribs. “How the fuck did you know I dreamed about you last night?”

  “I was talking about the night I slipped into your bedroom, but I’m guessing now it’s been a regular thing, eh?” My muttered curse makes him smile. Something cool and satisfied slips into his eyes. Something that pisses me off even as it makes me squirm.

  Fuck.

  “There is no need to look so pleased with your damn self. They’re just dreams.”

  He only smiles. “There’s this thing about dreams, princess—”

  “What?” I glare, continuing to chalk my stick so hard dust flies everywhere.

  Jack coughs, still smiling. “—sometimes they come true.”

  “No, they fucking don’t. Another life lesson you taught me.”

  His lips tighten. “Are the dreams about me the reason you look tired? Or are you having more nightmares?”

  “That your way of telling me I look like shit?”

  His rough tone softens to a husky murmur that curls my toes. “It isn’t possible for you to look like shit, baby. Just tell me.”

  “It’s really none of your business.” I push away from him, banging the cue against the floor. “Why can’t you let me be? You won’t answer my questions, you won’t stay gone—you’re fucking useless, really.” I bend over to line up my shot and fire away. It’s a good break, solid and hard, but it doesn’t cover the sound of Jack’s soft chuckle. His amusement at my anger ignites the sparks flying inside of me.

  I yank the cue back to nail him in the ribs. Hard.

  “Shit, Seph!”

  I turn to see him rubbing at his side with one hand. The bottom of his T-shirt rides up, offering a brief glimpse of firm, tanned skin, the shadow of rippled abs. My fingers tighten on the cue and my breath instantly shallows.

  The look on Jack’s face fades from irritation to something sharp and contemplative.

  “Well, somebody’s in a shit mood. Wound a little tight, eh?”

  He steps forward, backing my ass into the pool table. I grasp the edge of the table in one hand, the cue in the other, my chin going up.

  “Nah, I’m peachy. Nothing but sunshine and rainbows in my life. And….and…freaking kittens.”

  “Kittens?” His lips twitch. “I see you as more of a dog person, princess.”

  “Argh! Just go away before I zap your ass!”

  “Lucky your magic doesn’t work on me, huh?” One hand settles on my hip, warm and heavy, his fingertips making little circles over the fabric. Trying to soothe me, but I don’t want to be soothed.

  I raise the cue stick threateningly. “This will.”

  His eyes don’t leave my face, but his hand wraps around the stick, gently but inexorably forcing it down despite my continued resistance. I finally give up and lower my aching arm, cursing. “You need to chill before you crack.”

  “Says the man who put most of the cracks in,” I mutter.

  “So let me make it better.” He’s close enough now that his jacket brushes against my breasts, the rough edge of the zipper sliding over one of my nipples, which immediately stands to attention. Traitor.

  His gaze flicks down, tightening the hard tip even further and making the other sit up and beg, too. Fuck this.

  I turn to face the table, my spine stiff, both hands wrapped around the cue as I close my eyes, unable to deal with my reaction to him right now. “Go away, Jack. I don’t want you here.”

  “Don’t want me, huh?” Before I can suck in a breath, that big, taut body is flush against mine. Desire flashes over me like heat lightning, fast, hot waves that leave me trembling. His mouth trails from my ear to lay nipping kisses down the side of my neck. A whimper escapes before I can bite back the sound. Jack slides a hand under my dress, his fingers trailing over the thigh highs, then pausing when they meet bare skin.

  “We both know you’re already wet for me,” he whispers into my ear, his voice rough and low. “Shall I prove it?”

  My hands start shaking as those maddening fingertips move higher yet. I drop the cue, balls scattering and clicking together as it rolls across the table. My palms press flat against green felt, my knees buckling.

  I can feel his warm breath on my nape as his fingers trail over my panties, before that big hand cups me possessively. I bite back a moan even as I squirm into his touch.

  “Jack…” I need to tell him no, I have to say it. But my lips won’t seem to form the word.

  “Shhh, baby.” He bites my neck lightly as if in warning, sending another shockwave of heat through me. “I get it. You don’t trust me. And we already established that you shouldn’t. But this, between us? It’s inevitable.”

  Then his hand moves, tugging aside the damp scrap of fabric between my legs, one thick fingertip tracing slick, needy flesh. I suck in a breath, my back arching helplessly at the wicked burst of pleasure. My head falls back against his shoulder, until I can feel his hot breath against my throat. How the hell do I find the strength to stop this, when every cell in my body is screaming for more, to be filled and possessed by this man?

  “You need this, princess.” The raw emotion in his voice makes my chest ache, his lips brushing my skin. “You need to let go
before you implode. So you’re going to let me give you what you need, aren’t you?” His last two words come out in a harsh growl that tightens my nipples and makes me bite my lips.

  There is no way I’m not going to regret this, but I whisper the word we both have to hear. “Yes.”

  He spins me around so fast the room blurs like I’m on a carnival ride. Then his mouth is slamming into mine, his tongue between my lips, scorching and sweet, mimicking his fingers’ rhythm below, stroking the hot wet pulse of want between my legs. I grind into him, shameless as need spirals quickly into desperation. If I don’t come right now, this fucking instant, I am going to split apart, exactly as Jack said. Just shatter into a million pieces and lose myself. Maybe forever.

  “Jack, please,” I whine. One big hand cups my ass in response, lifting me to the edge of the pool table, his hips nudging my legs apart as he shoves my skirt higher. His mouth is on my neck and I can feel his groan as he presses a fingertip against my soaking entrance. My eyelashes flutter down as my fingers wrap in his coat, my thighs gripping his lean waist. I lift my hips helplessly, rocking into that touch I crave.

  He slides his finger inside me, then another, the stretching sensation leaving me gasping for air, my eyes flying open. Jack is staring down at me, his own eyes dark, but far from cool. The heat in those grey-green depths makes me moan, my head falling back as he presses deeper, twisting his hand just so…

  My muscles tighten down on the delicious girth of those fingers, fluttering like an out-of-control heartbeat. I let go of his jacket, letting my body fall back on the table, sliding my hands over my aching breasts, squeezing hard, desperate for the release that hovers out of reach. My nipples push against the scarlet fabric, jutting between my knuckles.

  Jack lets out a curse that is half a moan. “Fucking hell, princess. That’s it.”

  He finds my clit with the pad of his thumb, circling the swollen bit of flesh until my spine bows back and my thighs start to tremble. He leans down, drawing one of my nipples roughly into his mouth, sucking hard through the fabric as he drives his fingers a little deeper…