Black Sheep of Faery: Books 1-2

by Harley Gordon

  I adjust her into a fireman’s carry, her head sliding between my wings, her blood sinking into the black feathers. Bending my knees, I leap into the air, faltering under her weight and lack of practice. I haven’t used my wings in years after spending so long in well-populated areas.

  Better I take the chance of being spotted flying than to try to carry my bleeding friend through the streets, wasting precious time. Fear keeps me strong enough to keep my hold on Belle, keep my hold on the air. My heart pounds, terrified she’s gone. I may not be able to have her in my life, but I don’t want her gone for a hundred years.

  The air bites through me up here, through the new slits in my thin shirt. Belle isn’t as warm against me as she should be. “Stay with me, Belle. You have work to do. Come on. Just hold on. Please.”

  I spot her shop and begin the descent. We tumble to the ground with a jarring slam, skin scraping on cobblestones. “Oh no. No. No. No.” I roll over and check Belle, breathing only a little easier when I find a pulse still steady against my fingers.

  My limbs are jiggly and weak as I fight to get her inside, the adrenaline fade leaving me light-headed and my pulse pounding in my temples. She flops in my arms, her foot sticking on the door jamb as I drag her into the shop.

  My breaths come out in sobs as I finally get her on a couch. I’m soaked in blood, my wings hanging limp down my back. With a strangled scream, I force them to sink back into my skin, becoming the tattoos they appear to be.

  I rip open her shirt over the wound in her side, ripping off my own ruined shirt to staunch the flow of blood. It’s slowed a little, her Fae body fighting to keep her alive. Tears drip down my face, falling on my hands, mixing in the pool of crimson.

  Curses fall from my lips. I’m no doctor, I don’t know how to help her. Fae rarely need healing, their bodies handle it on their own. But there’s so much blood. So much.

  “I can’t lose you, Belle. Not you. Please, wake up.”

  The door slams open behind me and Jackie shoves me out of the way, sending me sliding across the floor on my ass. I breathe out relief — she’s excellent with wounds.

  Hatter grabs my shoulders, yanking me to my feet. “Are you all right? How did you do that? When did you get wings?” His eyes are wild with confusion and worry and something like awe.

  I resist the temptation to sink into him, needing the comfort, and instead I ease back a few steps until his hands fall back to his sides, his fingers painted red.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Explain.”

  Remembering I’m only in a bra and jeans, I turn my back to him. “Mother Goose gave me an upgrade a couple decades ago.” When I ran away, I sought shelter with her first.

  His fingers trace the outline of my tattoos. “They’re beautiful.” His breath brushes against the back of my neck.

  I suppress a shiver. “She does good work.” Anything Goose draws or paints or tattoos or writes can come to life. It’s her power. And she’s incredibly picky of who she gifts her tattoos to.

  His hands travel over my shoulder and down my arm to the spot where I have a watercolor lion tattooed on my forearm. “Is this another one from her?”

  “It is.” Pulling away from him again, I turn my focus back to Belle. “Jackie, please give me good news.”

  “She’s going to be fine. I think. You did well, stopping the blood so quickly.” She glances up at me and frowns. “You should probably get cleaned up.”

  I nod, hurrying up to Belle’s flat and into her bathroom. My eyes widen when I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I’m painted with streaks of red, my skin beneath it almost grey with worry and exhaustion.

  After turning the shower on, I peel the rest of my clothes off, hissing when the drying blood sticks to my skin. The hot water beats down on me, the pool at my feet swirling with pink.

  Belle’s blood.

  Unable to hold my body up anymore, I slide to the bottom of the tub, curling myself into a ball, more tears mixing with the spray. I didn’t want to fit back into this life with such ease, but I slipped right back into the violence, into the person I used to be before, the person I’ve been running from.

  And it’s like coming home. A part of me I didn’t know was missing has been filled in and I do not like it or want it.

  I struggle back to my feet, scrubbing my skin red with a sponge, watching the pink water drain from the tub. I forgot to bring clothes with me, so I wrap myself in a towel and sneak down the hall to my room.

  Relieved Hatter isn’t lurking around, I shut the door behind me and drop the towel.

  “I appreciate the show, love, but now really isn’t the time.”

  I shriek and scramble for my towel at Hatter’s voice. “Dammit, Hatter. What the hell are you doing in here?”

  “I didn’t expect you to come in naked. We need to discuss the next step.”

  Once I’m decent, I glare at him, ignoring the flush painting his cheeks. “Turn around so I can get dressed.”

  He does, slapping his hands over his eyes for good measure. I hurry into yoga pants and a sweater, the fabric sticking to my still wet body, almost making me fall over when my foot gets caught in the pants.

  “All right. You can turn around now.” I try to force the scarlet flames from my face. Which is harder because of the look in his eyes. I gulp. “What was so important?”

  He clears his throat. “Right. Well, Belle is going to be fine, but she’s going to need at least a day to recover. She and I discussed a possible next step if the orphanage didn’t pan out, no pun intended.”

  “Which is?” I dry my hair, grimacing at the spot of purple I’m leaving on Belle’s towel.

  “Go see Hook. He’s in the Riviera.”

  She Found Them Indeed

  The train rattles along the tracks, the French countryside passing in a blur. Hatter snoozes at my side, his expression devoid of the usual mischief and madness.

  I can’t nap, my stomach wound too tight — worried about Belle’s recovery, terrified of Hook’s reaction to me showing up, the confusion and longing crashing over me — over Hatter, over my place in the world.

  Hatter stirs, his head falling onto my shoulder. I stiffen, not even breathing, battling against the memories invading my mind. His breath brushes against my collarbone and raises goosebumps along my flesh. I shift in my seat, and he jerks upright, blinking slowly and frowning at me in confusion.

  I give him a tight smile. “We should be there in fifteen minutes.”

  He nods and rests his head back against the seat. “Are you worried about seeing Hook again?”

  How does he read me so easily? I don’t like it. “Why should I be?”

  He shrugs and takes a sip of his tea, grimacing at the chilled liquid. “Memories it might stir up.”

  I turn to stare out the window, not seeing the lavender fields, seeing Fitz, Hatter, Belle, Jackie as we once were. “Those are already stirred up. They’ve been driving me crazy ever since you walked through my door.”

  “I know I should apologize, but I cannot be sorry for seeing you again.”

  I meet his eyes, seeing him, the real him, completely stripped down. Maybe it’s because he just woke up and hasn’t had time to build his walls of madness and mayhem, or maybe he’s tired of pretending around me. Whatever the reason, I see it all. And the emotions swirling in his eyes undo me. No one has looked at me like this in a long, long time. No one since him.

  Like I’m everything.

  Fifty years ago, I wasn’t ready for this look in his eyes, the awe on his face. Fifty years later, I’m still not ready.

  But as I drown under the weight of his emotions and mine, I can’t find it within me to care, to stop myself from leaning towards him.

  And he’s ready for me.

  Our mouths crash together, desperate, hungry. His hands reach up to cup my jaw and mine reach up to wrap around his neck. We slow down, learning each other again — tasting, teasing.

  He’s familiar and new all at
the same time. My stomach swoops and my heart thuds, making me almost giddy. A whimper slips from my mouth into his and his fingers tighten on my face in response. His hands slide around the back of my neck, holding me closer, molding me to him. My entire body flushes with heat as his tongue swoops into my mouth to dance with mine.

  Kissing him is like floating up into the stars, dancing through galaxies. It’s like a warm day out in the sunshine skipping through a lavender field.

  Kissing him is home.

  Home. The thought is a discordant note reverberating through me, nails down a chalkboard. I shove away from him, keeping my hands out, looking at my lap, breathing hard, shaking my head.

  “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

  “Hey.” He lifts my head with two fingers under my chin. “It is all right.” His voice is a bit strained, but his eyes blare sincerity.

  Which makes this even worse.

  “I understand, love.”

  He does? I’m not sure I do.

  The train lurches to a halt with a screech of the wheels against the tracks, breaking up this incredibly painful and awkward moment. Thank Grimm.

  I gather my bag, and we stand and join the queue already forming down the aisle of the train. I take a spot behind Hatter, needing a few minutes to compose myself without his constant inspection.

  What the hell was I thinking? My friend has been injured, Pan is on another rampage, I’m about to throw myself further into Faery, we’re one misstep away from war with the humans and I kiss him?

  And all I can think about is how much I enjoyed it, how much I want to do it again. As soon as our lips touched again, it was like it opened a floodgate, the things I’ve been holding back at bay all these years spilling over me, drowning me.

  I need air. Real air. The line crawls, making the walls close in on me. I’m not prone to panic attacks, but it’s been a long couple days, and it’s too much. My life was good and now I’m tossed about by the waves of confusion.

  Closing my eyes, I breathe deep. I’m being ridiculous. I’m fine. It’ll be over soon, and I can have my life back. My nice boring life.

  The line finally makes headway and then we’re on the platform and I can breathe again. I shove everything but the problem at hand to the side. It’s something I’m quite proficient at. I have to focus. The air is salty and warm and makes me wonder why I chose Paris instead of this gorgeous place. The sea is a crystal cerulean, the multi-colored buildings almost right on the water.

  Hatter hails a cab and gives the driver directions to the docks. I avoid looking at him as we ride, not ready to see whatever’s on his face. Understanding, his mask of madness, or the one that made me kiss him.

  Instead, I remember the last time I saw Hook. He blamed me for his lover’s death and the deaths of his crew. Blamed me for not catching Pan fast enough. It’s been thirty years and I’m still not over it. He probably isn’t either. Maybe Belle should have been the one to come out here. We could have waited a day. I could have stayed behind to do whatever she felt was important enough to split us all up. If Hook still blames me, he won’t want to help. Even if he doesn’t blame me, he probably won’t want to help. And I wouldn’t blame him.

  My stomach dances with butterflies the closer we get.

  The cab slides to a stop, and after Hatter pays, we get out, staring out at the crystal sea. I definitely should have opened my bakery here instead of Paris. It’s like we’ve stepped into another world, into paradise.

  A warm breeze wafts off the coast, tangling through the short strands of my hair. We thread our way through the crowds, tourists and Parisians on vacation, to the walk leading to the docks. We search through the boats, reading the names until we find the Jolly Roger.

  But it Made Her Heart Bleed

  There it is, nestled between two smaller ships. I swallow hard as Hatter calls out, asking permission to come aboard. The last time I saw this ship it was splattered and soaked with blood and death.

  Ariel pokes his head out, silver hair blowing in the breeze, his brow furrowing at the sight of us. What’s he doing here? I’ve only met him once in passing, long, long ago. Shakespeare’s Ariel, not that bitch mermaid. I don’t know what it is about the princesses, but they all came to life as assholes. Except Belle and Mulan. And the so-called princes are even worse, but most of them are in prison.

  “Permission granted.” Ariel’s voice sounds more resigned than happy. He calls for Hook as Hatter and I clamber up onto the ship.

  Hook emerges from below and his eyes widen in surprise at the sight of us. Then he beams and races straight for me, lifting me into his arms, smelling of the sea and sunshine. My eyes sting with tears as I wrap my arms around him in return. Apparently, he has forgiven me.

  He sets me back onto my feet, keeping his hands on my shoulders. “Bo. I’m so glad to see you. It’s been hard to stay away from Paris ever since I found out you were in France.”

  “You’re always welcome, Hook.” He’s one of the few Fae I’d welcome a visit from in my life. Mainly because I know he’d only come for company, not to draw me back into the life.

  Hatter lets out a frustrated noise somewhere between a growl and a snort. Hook turns to him and hugs him as well. “It’s nice to see you two back together.”

  My eyes widen, panic fluttering through me. “Oh, no. We’re not together. I mean we’re here, together. But not together together. We aren’t a couple. We’re just working together. Briefly.”

  All three men stare at me with various expressions of amusement on their faces. My face burns with awkward embarrassment.

  Hook takes pity on me. “Why are you here? I take it you aren’t here for a romantic boat ride?”

  I shake my head. “I’m sorry, there’s no easy way to explain this or prepare you for it. Pan’s back.”

  Hook blanches and grabs the rail for support. Ariel growls and moves closer to Hook, his body swelling in a protective stance, the wind whipping harder around us in response to his distress.

  Hook shakes off his alarm and stands back to his full height, his hand going to the sword on his waist like Pan might pop up at any moment.

  I’m not so certain he won’t.

  “Why don’t we go below and you can explain. I don’t have any rum up here.” I smile at his running joke. He hates rum. He prefers brandy.

  Hatter and I follow Hook and Ariel into the cabin. It’s like stepping into the past. Everything is just the same, he hasn’t made any upgrades at all. He hasn’t even added electricity to it, still using candles and lanterns for light.

  It’s strangely comforting.

  We take seats around his rickety table. The same table we’d laid out Smee on to try and save him. I close my eyes against the visions painted red.

  Hatter squeezes my knee under the table and I open my eyes to see Hook’s sad smile. “I’ve had time to grow accustomed to it. Some days, I even forget.”

  “Some days, I do too.”

  Ariel pours everyone glasses of brandy. “Why don’t you two start from the beginning.”

  I gesture for Hatter to start since he knows the beginning better than I.

  He knocks back his drink first, his tongue darting out to lick the drops from his lips. “Alice disappeared a week ago. No one had heard from her. The Duchess was really upset and said Alice left everything in her room like normal. I tried to contact the other Wonderland characters, but no one responded except Chess. He’s the one who told me Pan was behind it. He wouldn’t say how he knows, but I trust him. I came to Paris to talk to Belle, and we forced Bo to help us. And Bo figured out his pattern.”

  I take up the thread of the story from there, explaining everything that had happened, my throat tightening in distress when I recount Belle’s injury. I leave out my tattoos. Hook and Ariel drink as they listen, never interrupting.

  When I finish, I take my drink, grimacing as the brandy burns all the way down. It’s a good burn though. It wakes me up.

  “So, why are you here?
What do you need from us? To help you fight?”

  I shake my head. “No. Any information you can give us about where he might be holed up, any whispers you might have heard. Anything. And we wanted to warn you. Pan may decide to come after you.”

  “You don’t want our swords?” Hook sounds offended.

  “We’ll welcome them if you want to join us. I wasn’t sure you’d want to get involved with this again.”

  “You are.” Hook scowls.

  I snort. “Yes, well, I wasn’t given a choice. I’m not going to do the same to you.”

  Hook and Ariel exchange a glance filled with words and meanings I can’t decipher. They turn back and nod completely in sync.

  “We’re in. And we have an idea where he might be. You might want to call it into FTA while we prepare to cast off.” He goes on to explain about the island somehow still shrouded from human eyes, an island not on a single map, an island they found years ago by accident. Pan wasn’t there back then, but it would be the perfect spot for him now. A perfect place to be his new Neverland.

  Hook and Ariel rise, leaving Hatter and I staring at each other with gaping mouths. I shrug and pull out my phone to send a text to Belle with the location and information.

  I slip my phone back into my pocket and stand. Hatter stands too, making this part of the cabin seem tiny and tight and all I can smell is him and the sea.

  He keeps his expression placid which helps me get myself under control. Bless him. If he looked at me like he did on the train, I don’t know if I could hold myself back.

  Being with Hook has brought back even more. Especially of my time with Hatter. I flee up the steps, away from the tiny cabin keeping me imprisoned with my ex-lover. Hatter remains below, giving me a few minutes.

  I need the obnoxious Hatter back. This one makes my head spin. This one makes me desire things I have no business wanting. The Jolly Roger pulls away from the slip, and I stand leaning against the rails, my eyes closed and face tilted towards the sun, breathing in the salty air, reveling in the light spray from the ocean. I’m getting my favorite sun-dress with middle fingers scattered across it wet, but I don’t care. It feels glorious.