Black Sheep of Faery: Books 1-2

by Harley Gordon

  Contents

  DARE and WILD

  This book is a work of fiction. Names,

  Dedication

  DARE

  Little Bo Peep Has Lost Her Sheep

  And Can't Tell Where to Find Them

  Leave Them Alone

  And They'll Come Home

  Bringing Their Tails Behind Them

  Little Bo Peep Fell Fast Asleep

  And Dreamed She Heard Them Bleating

  And When She Woke

  She Found it a Joke

  For They Were Still A-Fleeting

  She Took Up Her Little Crook

  Determined For to Find Them

  She Found Them Indeed

  But it Made Her Heart Bleed

  For They'd Left Their Tails Behind Them

  It Happened One Day

  As Bo Peep Did Stray

  Into a Meadow Hard By

  There She Aspied

  Their Tails Side by Side

  All Hung on a Tree to Dry

  She Heaved a Sigh

  And Wiped Her Eye

  And Over the Hillocks Went Rambling

  And Tried What She Could, as a Shepherdess Should

  To Tack Each Again to its Lambkin

  Hatter and Bo

  DWELL

  DWELL

  WILD

  Fables Deep in Time's Abyss

  From Oblivion Resurrected

  Champions in their Rest Ejected

  From the Dim Necropolis

  Like Wings the Sound Over Woods Was Borne

  In Terror the Dwarf Dug Deeper

  While Overhead a Mad Hunting-Horn

  Aroused the Horrified Sleeper

  The Hunters' Shouts

  The Thunders' Crash

  Roared High in the Lust of Slaughter

  Through the Horses' Whinnies

  The Snap of the Lash

  Above the Livid Water

  As in an Enchanted Space

  Trees Stood in the Vapor Rootless

  While the Stag Flew Onward, Footless

  Yet Unwearied by the Chase

  The Red Dragon Rose Unwombed

  While the Storm Wailed like a Shadow

  To Eternal Anguish Doomed

  To Hunt Until the Last Judgment Day

  Till World and Time Were Finished

  Thank You

  Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  The first two novellas in

  BLACK SHEEP OF FAERY

  DARE

  WILD

  DWELL, a short story from Hatter’s POV

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All mistakes are my own.

  Copyright © 2017 Harley Gordon

  Cover art by Melody Simmons

  Interior Formatting by Heather Griffin

  Editing by Tamara Mataya

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.

  For everyone who still believes in fairy tales

  Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep,

  and doesn't know where to find them;

  Leave them alone,

  And they'll come home,

  Wagging their tails behind them.

  DARE

  Little Bo Peep Has Lost Her Sheep

  Music swells around me, so strong and melodic it creates a magical frenzy in the audience. I bring my drumsticks down on my set with enthusiasm, guiding my band mates, keeping them in line, acting as the backbone of our band. We’re doing a cover of a Ramones song, but with our own twist. We mixed it with a little Wild Cherry.

  Of the many identities and lives I’ve had over the centuries, this one is, so far, my favorite. I’ve been all different musicians — violinist, lead singer, banjo player, pianist, even for a short time a tuba player. But drummer is the best one yet.

  I’m no sparkly Faery with colorful wings, but the legends are true. Those of us from Faery are drawn to art and music, the creativity breathing life and beauty and hope and truth into the world. Maybe because we’re born from those things. The legends are wrong when they say we can’t create.

  When I play, everything else melts away, my past, my heartaches, my grief. I become the harmony, my heartbeat merging with every strike of my drums.

  The lights paint my sweat soaked skin with a multitude of different colors and fog swirls around my ankles, coating the stage and billowing out towards the throng.

  I smile over at the keyboardist as we begin our duet. I keep a steady beat for him as his clever fingers fly across the keys, bringing me and the crowd even higher to a musical plane I’ve never reached.

  The others reenter the song with a clash and a bang and my muscles tremble as I lead us through the climax and to the close.

  And as the last note trickles off through the air, we bask in the worship of our listeners. An awed silence falls for a moment as the music fades away before cheers and howls and applause shake the building. We grin at each other and perform elaborate bows for our new fans. They’re drunk on our music, flying high right there with us. We’ve cast a spell over them, and it isn’t my power doing it. It’s the music.

  But above the whistles and clapping, a noise rises, thundering through my ears. Someone is baaing like a sheep.

  They found me.

  And Can't Tell Where to Find Them

  I bloody hate sheep.

  With my heart floating and bobbing in my stomach, I back off the stage, trying to act natural, like I didn’t hear that horrible sound. I try to convince myself I imagined it, but I know someone from Faery has found me. Hopefully, it’s nothing but a random Fae who happened to be here tonight. A trickster who merely wants to have a little fun and cause a little trouble and won’t tell anyone. Especially not the Faery Tale Administration.

  The others leave the stage, flying high from our performance. I ignore the bottled water the roadie hands out. My eyes roll around in my head as I search the crowd.

  This is only intermission, so I’m stuck here for the next couple hours. My band mates will kill me if I leave.

  But I have to get out of here and prepare to disappear again. I can give it a few days and see if I’m left alone, but if they’ve found me, I can’t stay in Paris.

  Maybe Istanbul next.

  Attempting to appear like I’m not bothered, like I have nothing to hide from, to fear, I join the bassist and the keyboardist on the dance floor as the DJ pumps out a dance beat. With the music pounding through me, I’m able to push my worries and plans to the back of my mind. My body takes over, seduced by the bass-line. Frankie is pulled away by a very handsome French dude, leaving me and the keyboardist alone. Jean puts his hands on my waist with a grin, pulling me close. I roll my eyes and wrap my arms around his neck, swaying my hips in time with his.

  “Can I cut in?” I stumble at the voice behind me, losing the beat, a roaring in my ears drowning out the music. Jean chuckles good-naturedly and releases me, turning and joining the guy who’s been circling and eying him.

  Now alone, I’m frozen, unable to move, the dancing bodies pressing into me and passing by in a swirl of colors and fog.

  “Hello, love. Been a long time.”

  I don’t turn around to face my visitor for
several moments, trying to keep back the memories stampeding through my mind as my last hopes for getting to continue this new life lay crumbled at my feet. I should have known.

  “How did you find me?” I finally spin in place, my heart stuttering as I take him in. The Mad Hatter. My ex. My onetime partner in the FTA. The only person I’ve ever been with since my husband died.

  He doesn’t answer right away, his eyes rove up and down my body, drinking me in like he’s dying of thirst and I’m the last sip of water.

  “What are you doing here? What do you want? How did you find me?”

  He doffs his damn fedora at me, a familiar mad and laughing glint in his eyes. One that makes my chest tight.

  He dyed his hair the same color as mine, a deep plum. Even the shaved black sides are the same. It looks better on him than it does on me. Last time I saw him, his hair was bright blue. Other than his hair, he’s exactly the same. Like he stepped out of a time machine from the forties. Pin-striped trousers, matching plum blouse, silver cravat tied rakishly at his neck. How long has he been watching me? He’s the perfect example of how characters don’t come to life quite how the creator intended. He always dresses the part, but he isn’t the pasty faced, rather bucktoothed idiot from the books. He’s a tall, lean Middle Eastern fellow with a wicked grin.

  I forgot how beautiful he is.

  Dammit.

  He steps in close and takes me in his arms. Unfortunately, the DJ changes to a slow song.

  I stiffen and frown at him. “What the hell are you doing, Hatter?”

  He twirls me, jerking me back into his chest. “Dancing. Just like when we first met, eh?” His familiar scent of lavender and sweet, milky tea surrounds me, bringing me back to long ago when we first met at The Beatles’ last concert on the roof in the cold January winter.

  Not wanting to cause a scene, I reluctantly move with him, trying to keep some space between our bodies. “Hatter.”

  “What, love?” He twirls me again.

  I blink hard to clear the dizziness from my head. “What are you doing?”

  “I told you. Dancing.” He dips me, our lower halves pressed way too close for my comfort.

  When I’m back upright, there’s only a breath between our mouths. I swallow hard. “I already was dancing.”

  He scowls. “Yes. I noticed. New boyfriend?”

  “No.” I refuse to tell him there’s been no one since him. I smother a sigh. Trying to get information out of him before he’s ready is impossible. I must play his game for a few minutes if I want to know why he’s here and how he found me.

  He cocks a brow. “Seems like he wants to be. And you two were really milking it onstage.”

  “Jealous, Hatter?” My mind spins and my heart skips a beat at his wicked grin. He’s just screwing with me, paying me back for disappearing on him all those years ago.

  “Of course. You don’t gift your attentions very easily. I don’t care for the thought of you with someone who isn’t worthy.”

  My eyes spark as I glare at him. “The only unworthy person I’ve gifted my attention to was you.”

  “There’s no way you’ve found anyone better than me.” He’s getting too close to the truth he can never know.

  I change the subject, trying to nudge it back to his purpose here. Sometimes he can get off-track and carried away. “I take it you were the one baaing from the crowd.”

  “You were magnificent, pet. Truly. I remember your talent for music, but you’ve grown even more impressive in the past few decades.”

  “Enough.” Being this close to him is too much. I stop dancing, grabbing his hand and yanking him through the crowd until I reach the dressing rooms. I shove him inside and slam the door shut behind us.

  He laughs and leans casually against the wall. “Couldn’t wait to get me alone, love?”

  “Shut up. Tell me how you found me and what you want. Now.”

  Leave Them Alone

  A flash of vulnerability crosses his face before he covers it with his own special brand of annoying humor. “I can always find you. I’ve known where you were and what you’ve been up to for the past fifty years.”

  “What the hell do you mean?” I fuel my voice with anger to hide the ache and trembling in my throat.

  “Did you think Faery would just let you go and you could hide?” He straightens and moves toward me. “That I would let you go? That you could hide from me?” With each question, he takes a step closer.

  “Considering I’ve been left alone for over thirty years, yes. Yes, I did.” I stumble back a few steps, needing space between us.

  He keeps coming. “Faery doesn’t keep you prisoner, Bo. If you want to leave, as long as you don’t get into trouble, it lets you.”

  I scoff as I skitter around one of the chairs, almost tripping over it, my heart threatening to burst from my chest. “Oh, how magnanimous of it. Allowing me my freedom. Except obviously, it’s an illusion since you and it have been keeping tabs on me.”

  “Of course. You really were magnificent, by the way. I think you’ve finally found your calling here, love.” He allows me the space I so desperately need, stopping on the other side of the chair.

  “Too bad I have to leave it all behind now.” I’m unable to hide the ache in my voice.

  He raises a brow and cocks his head to the side. “Why? You know there’s nowhere far enough we won’t be able to find you. Fae are everywhere and as a whole, we’re rather chatty buggers. Word travels. And no matter how much you change your appearance, you can’t hide who you really are.” He glides around the table, stalking me again, his movements graceful and predatory.

  “Who I was. I’m not that person anymore.” I’ll never be Bo Peep again. I gulp, shaking my head as I back up, coming to an abrupt halt when I run into the door.

  Hatter follows until nothing but a lyric is between us, his hands pressed flat against the door on either side of my head, his arms caging me in. “We’re all our stories deep down, love. You can’t outrun that.”

  I take shallow breaths to keep his scent from overwhelming me. I don’t want to remember. “How would you know? You’ve never tried. You embraced the madness of your character, taking everyone down the rabbit hole with you.”

  His lips twitch as he smothers a grin. “You forget, pet. I walked this Earth for twenty years before we met. I went to war for the humans because it was a worthy cause. I saw what it was like to be human and didn’t develop the taste for it. I may be mad, my dear, but it doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” He inches closer, so close the heat from his body lights mine on fire.

  I chew the inside of my lip, trying to activate some unknown power to travel through walls. “Why are you here, Hatter? I’m tired and don’t have long before I have to be back onstage and then I have to go home and get my bakery open. I know you didn’t reveal yourself just to catch up. Not if you really have known where I’ve been this whole time.” I move to get away from him, but he refuses to budge, grinning merrily down at me instead, something I don’t want to read blazing in his eyes.

  “Maybe I’m here because I thought I’d given you long enough.”

  “Long enough for what?” I stare at a spot over his shoulder, unable to look at his face anymore.

  He dips his head, his tone serious and low, his breath whispering across my skin. “To miss me. To miss your home. To miss your family. To finally be ready to come back.”

  I shiver, but attempt to cover it up by shoving him away from me and darting out from the cage. “My home is long gone. And my family is dead.”

  He stays in place this time, shoving his hands in his pockets, his expression bland, eyes hooded. “You know that’s not who I meant.”

  I wrap my arms around my waist, hugging myself. “Faery isn’t my home or my family. And you were just a rebound. Someone to keep the grief at bay.”

  His lips twist, showing me the barb hit. It doesn’t give me the satisfaction I thought it would. His mask of madness and humor slips back over h
is face. “Don’t forget I’ve read your leaves, love. I know the truth even when you don’t.”

  My fingers dig into my sides and I fight back despair and longing. “Hatter, enough. You forget I know you as well. And as eccentric and ridiculous as you may like to act, you are capable of being serious on occasion. I need one of those rare occurrences to be now. I’m in no mood to keep playing this game with you.”

  “What game?” He grins at me.

  I sigh, allowing a little of my own vulnerability to shine through. I’m too tired to keep it hidden. “Hatter.”

  His eyes soften even as the rest of his expression remains the same. He throws himself into a chair, leaning it back on two legs. I glimpse his socks with teapots stamped on them. “Fine. Fine.” He waves a hand towards the chair across from him. “Sit down. You look like you’re about to fall over, pet.” He waits until I perch on the edge of the seat before he continues.

  “It wounds me that you believe I would lie to you.”

  I spear him with a glare. “You’re fluent in lies, Hatter. And even if it’s the only reason you’re in the city, it doesn’t explain why you stalked my show. You’re lucky I’m not armed.”

  Memories swirl in the depths of his eyes as they glaze over. “I remember your fondness for firearms, but I was confident you wouldn’t actually shoot me.”

  I don’t relax my glare. “I haven’t ruled it out yet if you don’t tell me the real truth. Now.”

  He sighs and his expression clears until nothing but worry remains. “Alice has gone missing.”

  I hide the start of shock zinging through me and shrug. “So? She may look like a nine-year-old, but she’s as old as you. Just as bratty too.” I’ve never been overly fond of Alice. I sympathize with her plight, being trapped as a child for eternity, but others in her position have found happiness. Most of them moved to Basque Country where a lot of Fae have gone to await Arthur’s return while they rebuild Camelot. Once upon a time, I’d wanted to go there.