Black Sheep of Faery: Books 1-2

by Harley Gordon

  Not anymore.

  “As you know, I like to remain close with my fellow Wonderland characters. When I hadn’t heard from her in a while, I decided to investigate.”

  “Read your tea leaves.”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “Pan took her.”

  My entire body trembles as I shoot to my feet, shutting my eyes against everything I’ve held off for decades. “Get out. Now.” I reach out with my power, calling on every rat and pigeon in the area to come to me.

  I don’t wait for his response.

  I run.

  The screams have already begun.

  And They'll Come Home

  I’m still trembling as I make my way home through the drizzly Paris streets. It’s like a ghost has passed through me and I can’t escape the chill. Guilt pulses through me as I rush away from the bar swarming with rats and pigeons. I’ve tried so hard to not use my powers since I ran away, to ignore and shove down everything that makes me Bo Peep. But I had to get away, and it was the only thing my panicked brain could think of.

  Hatter.

  Pan.

  The two men I want to see least in the world are back in my life. In Nina’s life, ruining my favorite identity so far.

  It’s easy to be Nina.

  Sometimes, even I believe the lie.

  Long gone is the girl with golden ringlets and poofy dresses. I barely even recognize myself when I look in the mirror. The innocence of Bo Peep is nowhere to be found in the broken and haunted expression in my eyes. In the lines of grief on my face. I’ve made sure no one knows I’m back in Europe—- I’ve kept myself hidden for the past two decades.

  I bend my head against the chill in the air. The streets glisten from a rainstorm earlier in the day. I normally love Paris after a rain, but tonight I’m unable to enjoy it. The worries and fears I pushed away earlier are back, pulsing in my head, making it ache. I haven’t even been in France a year. I’m not ready or prepared to move on. I can’t go back.

  Not even for Hatter. Not even if he needs me to save Alice.

  I just…can’t.

  I toss a glance over my shoulder, reaching out with my power for the birds to keep watch for anyone following. Hatter already knows where I live. Has always known, apparently. He wouldn’t bother tailing me. But who else knows? Am I surrounded by Fae and have been gone so long I’ve become blind to it?

  Faery is real. We exist alongside humans and have for centuries. We spring from the minds of writers, bards, artists. The belief those masters and geniuses inspired brought us to life. When a character is still popular seventy-five years after our creation, we come to life and are free to roam the Earth, forever, immortal.

  But much like the game of telephone, retellings and reboots change us from the creator’s intent until we’re hardly recognizable from our original characters. And once we’re given life, we’re given free will. We can be whoever we want to be. Some of us remain attached to our stories, but others fight against it. Characters like me.

  At first, I was happy to be pulled into the fold by the Fae. I had a purpose when they recruited me as a librarian for the FTA, Faery Tale Administration. We kept Faery hidden from human eyes, and then when human tech grew too advanced for us to stay a secret, we helped keep the peace until they accepted us.

  But then, I fell in love with a human. And we had children. Grandchildren. And I watched them die. They died while I remained young on the outside. I was a teenage grandmother.

  It broke my heart. Faery broke my heart. I no longer wanted to be a part of something that trapped me in a prison there was no escaping from. I left it all behind, moving and changing my identity every decade before people notice I don’t age and realize I’m Fae.

  It’s worked for over thirty years.

  I step into the safety of my home, breathing out a sigh of relief so loud it echoes through my empty bakery as I lock the door behind me. I don’t want to let on to Hatter that I have plans to run, so I have go about life as usual. I’m also praying if I give it a few days, he’ll leave me be. A whine escapes my lips when I check the clock behind the counter. I have to be up in three hours to start baking.

  Bollocks.

  For half a second, I consider acting like Cinderella from the movie and get animals to help me. I’ve already started using again, might as well damn myself completely. It’s hilarious how many things the stories have gotten wrong. That smug ass has no affinity with animals. She can change objects into other objects. Rather like her fairy godmother.

  My brow furrows as I rummage in my fridge and cupboards. Nothing is where it normally is. It looks normal, but everything has been reorganized in some nonsensical manner.

  Hatter. There’s no other explanation.

  A flash of green on the middle of the floor catches my eye. How did I miss that?

  My heart thuds once and slides down to the floor.

  It’s a green beret with a stupid red feather poking from it.

  Pan.

  Bringing Their Tails Behind Them

  I kneel on the floor beside it, hands hovering above the hat, not wanting to touch anything Pan’s had his hands on, much less his greasy head. The little creepy brat always refused to bathe.

  A scream builds in my throat, but I choke it back down. He could be watching and I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me affected. How did he find me? And why now, after all these years? He was free. I never found him. No one ever did after his rampage when he first came to life.

  Hatter.

  It’s the only way. Pan found out Hatter was looking for him and Hatter led the bastard right to me.

  This I why I left Faery. Once one Fae finds you, it’s only a matter of time before the villains do too.

  The bell over my door tinkles behind me. I spin around, hand reaching for a gun I don’t keep on me anymore. How quickly I fall back into old habits.

  “Hatter.” I spit the words, almost burning my lips with the venom of my rage.

  He stands in the doorway, just staring at me, his lips compressed in a thin slash across his face. His eyes spark and burn with rage.

  “He’s been here.” It’s not me he’s glaring at, it’s the hat on the floor behind me.

  “Yes. Apparently, you’ve led him right to my damn door.”

  “I assure you, love. There’s no way he followed me to you.”

  “That would be my fault, I’m afraid.” A woman steps out from behind Hatter’s back. I hadn’t noticed anything other than Hatter.

  Belle.

  She looks exactly the same. Raven-black glossy curls, dark bronze skin, eyes the color of melted dark chocolate. Still dressed like a stereotypical librarian, complete with glasses and a book clutched in her hand. Still gorgeous, still looks like a Spanish woman in her early twenties, all svelte curves not hidden by her shapeless clothes. It’s not fair she came out older instead of the teenager she was in the stories.

  What is she doing back home in Paris?

  She reads the question on my face. “I’ve been here for five years. London became rather tiresome, and I missed France.” Hatter moves out of her way and she closes the door behind her.

  “How exactly is it your fault that little bastard found me?”

  She shoves her glasses up her nose. “Because I’ve kept tabs on you as well as Hatter all these years. While he was a little more…subtle about it, I didn’t always have the luxury of subtle.”

  “Hatter? Subtle?” I snort and roll my eyes.

  He winks. “Should have stuck around longer, pet. You would have found I have all sorts of abilities you didn’t get the chance to discover.”

  I tamp down the shiver trying to run up my spine. “Gross.”

  He laughs, his eyes piercing me, reading me, completely unfooled by my pretend disgust.

  I move away from both of them, putting the counter between us as I grab a rag and scrub already pristine counters. “Enough. What is going on? Why is Pan after me? Why is he bac
k? And why the hell have you been keeping tabs on me?”

  Belle halts on the other side of the counter. “He’s taking human children. And we’ve been told by multiple authorities if we don’t take care of it and get them back safely, Europe may adapt the same laws as the United States. You’ll have fewer and fewer places to hide if that happens. And we need your help to stop him.”

  Dammit. Belle always knew exactly which buttons to push to get results. Hatter just knows the buttons to push to piss me off.

  I shake my head. “Why do you need me for this? You run the bloody library of the FTA, Belle. You have scores of agents and spies and librarians at your beck and call. Why would you want someone rusty and out of the game?”

  “Because no one got closer to taking down Pan than you. No one knows him like you. I have every one of my resources working this, but I want the best. And you and Hatter, when you work together, you’re the best. Hell, even by yourself, you were one of the best. If Marguerite Blakeney was available, I’d use her, but she’s in the US working on smuggling Fae out of the country and out of those camps. And as good as she is, you were always better.”

  I’ve heard rumors the FTA has a squad who smuggles Fae from the US and sets them up with new lives. Over the past decade, it’s gotten even worse there for us. The rumbles were beginning when I left New York. Apparently Marguerite is leading that mission. She took over the mantle of the Scarlet Pimpernel when they awoke. Percy preferred being Percy. They’re still married, but from the whispers I’ve heard, only on paper.

  “Explain how Pan found me. And why the hell you’ve been on my trail.”

  Belle unearths her pipe from one of her many pockets, tapping it against her leg. “I’m the reason you’ve been left alone all these years. I’ve kept you in the bubble of delusion so you could grieve and have the life you wanted and needed. To do that, I had to know where you were and what you were up to. Unfortunately, I couldn’t take care of it personally since I have other, more pressing matters to deal with, so I dispatched others to report back. I believe that because of that, Pan was able to figure out you were here.”

  Hatter grabs a chair off the table, weariness lining his face. He scratches at the beard growing on his face. “Or, he just wants a rematch with you. You did foil his overall plan.”

  “Then, shouldn’t he want me as far out of this as possible?” I ask.

  Hatter shrugs, sitting backwards on one of my chairs, his well-fitted trousers riding up and revealing his yellow socks with pink teapots and cups embroidered on them. “It’s Pan, love. He refuses to grow up. Which means acting like a plonker.”

  My lips twist with derision. “And yet, he’s been smart enough to escape the might of the FTA.”

  “Maybe if you hadn’t left behind your responsibilities to Faery, we would have found him long ago.”

  My pulse pounds and the heat of rage washes over me at Belle’s words. “My responsibilities to Faery? What exactly do I owe Faery?” My voice goes icy and soft. I’m surprised frost doesn’t spread across my lips.

  Belle sighs. “Nothing, Bo. You don’t owe us or me anything, but we owe you protection now. Pack a bag, do whatever you need to do, then come straight to my place. Hatter knows the way. You aren’t safe here now that Pan knows where you live and work.” She doesn’t say another word, just turns and leaves the bakery.

  Hatter remains, watching me with a rare stillness. My fingers clench and unclench at my sides as I stare at the door, chest heaving.

  “What the hell happened to her?” I spit out the question, venom stinging my lips. There’s no sign of the sweet and brilliant woman I knew so long ago.

  He avoids my eyes, talking to the floor instead. “It’s not my story to tell. But after you left, there was a hole in her life. In my life as well, but it was worse for her. You were her only friend other than those books of hers. You were her partner way more than you were ever mine. She trained you, which gave you both purpose. She threw herself completely into the FTA once you left. Your family was her family, love. When she lost you, she lost them too. And she’s put a lot of effort to allow you the life you want.”

  I can’t get the counter any cleaner than it already is. “I didn’t have any family left when I quit.”

  “You had her. You had grandchildren.”

  “Grandchildren who blamed me for Pan. And they weren’t wrong. If I hadn’t remained so close to Faery, they would have been safe. I left so they’d be safe from the madness of our world. And they were. They lived long and happy lives.”

  “Faery didn’t kill your sons. War did. Faery didn’t kill your husband. Illness did.”

  I look down at myself to see if I’m bleeding from his barbed words. “You know an awful lot for someone I only spent six months with.”

  He grins at me, his eyes twinkling, the ass. “It may have been a short time, but we burned fast and hot during our courtship. Besides, I pay attention. And I’ve worked with her a lot over the years. You come up from time to time.”

  “How disturbing.” My lips twist.

  He sighs and stands, replacing the chair on the table. “Shall we?”

  I want to refuse, to hide away, to lock the doors, to continue pretending Faery doesn’t exist. “Stay here. I’ll pack a bag and call someone to take over my shop for a few days.”

  Hatter doesn’t hide the relief washing over his face. I look away, unable to bear it.

  The only reason I’m agreeing now, is Pan and I have unfinished business and it’s in my own self-interest to make sure Europe remains free for Fae. Pan’s return has made sure I don’t have a choice.

  Little Bo Peep Fell Fast Asleep

  Hatter is perusing the menu of my shop when I return downstairs. He raises a brow at me, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Milky tea and lavender scones?”

  Heat sweeps across my cheeks. It’s what he always smelled like, tasted like. “What about it?” I try to play it off.

  A satisfied and smug grin spreads his lips wide. “They sound delicious.”

  I hitch my bag higher on my shoulder and skip down the last few steps, determined not to let him get a rise out of me. “They are. One of my bestsellers.”

  He laughs in delight. “I bet they are.”

  Biting the inside of my cheeks, I check and make sure everything is prepared for Frankie tomorrow. “Ready to go? I’m exhausted.” I check my phone and grumble at the thought of not being able to spend what little remains of the night in my own bed.

  “I’m sure Belle has suitable accommodations for us.”

  “Us? You don’t have your own lavish hotel suite?” He’d always had rather expensive tastes.

  “And miss the dulcet symphony of your snores? Definitely not.” He grins as he holds the door open for me.

  I lock up behind us, casting a last, longing glance at the sign above the door. The Unicorn Bakery is a little Fae for what I usually do, but I couldn’t resist. And it’s been a huge success. Unicorns are very trendy right now. If only humans realized how bloodthirsty those things can be.

  Hatter leads me through the still wet streets in blessed silence, his usual chatter and digs held back. I sneak glances at him from the corner of my eye, noting the weariness pulling at his eyes and lips, the inward curl of his shoulders. Stress, worry, and exhaustion cover every inch of him. I’d forgotten how easy it is to overlook the real Hatter when everything he does is a performance. He doesn’t let many see past it. Sometimes, I wish he’d never let me.

  It’s simpler to only see the surface.

  The walk is short, only five blocks before he stops in front of a small bookshop. I’ve passed this place a hundred times on my wanderings through the city, never once imagining Belle was inside.

  Hatter doesn’t knock, he walks right in, holding the door open for me with a flourish. Her store is empty of customers this late at night, but filled with groaning shelves and tottering piles of books. How does she know where anything is? My fingers itch to organize and
color code everything, putting it all to rights. It’s a much smaller place than she had in England. Her library here verges on pathetic. Why did she leave London? This just looks like a used bookshop on the verge of going bankrupt.

  Belle sits inside on a cracked leather chair, curled up with a stack of books in her lap, drawing on her pipe. She always was such a wannabe Sherlock with her massive girlcrush on her. Sherlock deigns to help out the FTA on rare occasions. Those occasions being, the weirder the better. I’ve never been much of a fan of hers. She’s a bit of a dick. And Watson is even stupider than in the books and movies. Which is probably why they’ve have nothing to do with each other since they came to life and had one incredibly and painfully awkward conversation.

  Belle looks up at us over her spectacles. “Two guest rooms have been made up for you upstairs. We can discuss and plan in the morning.” She goes right back to her books.

  After I left, she must have crawled back into her dusty, old tomes instead of staying in the world. Guilt clogs my throat as I make my way through the stacks towards the stairs in the back. Hatter doesn’t follow right away, staying behind to exchange quiet words with Belle. I take the opportunity to escape, choosing the first open bedroom I find.

  It’s a simple room, decorated in greys and whites, only a bed and a dresser and small bookcase. I eye them with distrust, concerned Belle gave the furniture life, but they remain still and quiet. I set my bag and myself on the edge of the bed, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes. It’s my first quiet moment alone since that baa cut through the music and cheers. It feels like ages ago, but it was only a handful of hours.

  The ground has been ripped out from under me and I’m spinning and drowning, stuck in a tidal wave with no idea which way is up. Everything I’ve kept buried and locked away deep inside me has roared to the surface, ripping out of me. It’s all I can do not to scream.