Warrior Fae Princess

by Breene, K. F.

  She shook her head. “I’ll just check my desk and under my bed. That’s it. There’s nothing here.”

  He stepped into the hall and glanced around. “Is there a back door?” He glanced at her window. “Will you be okay if I go to the front of the house?”

  “I’ll be fine. These windows have bars, if you hadn’t noticed, and the back door has been swelled shut since before I left. I’m good.”

  He nodded and took a step before pausing. He put his hand on the frame of the door and grinned. “Don’t be too long. I might need a heavy hitter to subdue these new shifters. I’d fight them myself, but I just got my nails polished.”

  She laughed as she strode over to the bed. A couple of pieces of torn paper lay on the orange carpet under the edge of the mattress. Upon closer inspection, they were from a torn-up photograph. She could make out the leg of a man in one piece, and half a baby’s body in the other. Her as a baby and Walt, maybe? She certainly would have left such a picture behind, and she could even understand him ripping it up, but why were two fragments in her room? If he’d ripped it up here, no way would he have cleaned it up. Cleaning wasn’t his strong suit.

  Although the cleanliness of this room no longer mattered, she stuffed them in her pocket to be thrown away when next she saw a garbage can. That done, she double-checked the dresser—still empty—and moved on to the desk. The long desk drawer where she’d kept her pens and highlighters clunked against the lock when she pulled.

  She frowned and tried again, wiggling it a little. She had never locked this desk. Why would she? She had nothing of value, and Walt had always preferred to scream his curses, not write them down.

  The key lay in the first of the small drawers. The lock clicked and she finally pulled it open. Then froze.

  A small envelope stared up at her. Her name was scrawled across the center in an elegant hand. Not her mother’s handwriting, either, and certainly not Walt’s.

  She pulled it out and turned it over, revealing a red wax seal.

  “Elegant,” she said into the hush, feeling a dark foreboding seep into her gut.

  The interior of the envelope flashed gold, as did the frame of the cream-colored stationery tucked inside. Written on the paper, in the same delicate scrawl was:

  Dearest Charity,

  I know where your mother is.

  What a surprise, I know, given Roger is still in the dark. But then, few people can hide from me.

  To visit her now would certainly mean your demise, given the status of your magic. Have no fear; I will hold the information close to my heart until you are ready to commence the next phase of your life. When you are ready, just let one of my people know. They are always near.

  Best wishes,

  Your Best Friend Forever

  Chapter Four

  Her vision pulsed white. Her blood turned to ice.

  “Charity?” Dillon called from the front.

  She couldn’t look away from the note. She couldn’t find her voice to answer.

  “Charity, do you need help?” Footsteps rang down the hall, the pace urgent. “Oh, there you are. Hey—what’s the matter?”

  Still Charity couldn’t look away from the note clutched in her shaking hand.

  Dillon stepped in next to her and peered down at what she was holding. “Your best friend forever?”

  “Vlad. It’s what I call Vlad. B-F-F.”

  “Oh sh—” He braced his hands on her upper arms. “Let’s show this to Devon. Do you need to get anything else? Hand sanitizer, perhaps? I’d take a squirt, too, if you have some.”

  Her mouth moved but nothing came out. Her heart pinged around her ribcage.

  “Yep, let’s get moving. Devon is currently in a standoff with Dale. Cole is siding with Dale, saying we should capture the demon and question it. Which is ridiculous. If the person who summoned it isn’t a total idiot, they would’ve bound the demon from talking. It’ll just waste time. There’s obviously a reason Dale doesn’t have his own pack. Devon can definitely take him, but it’ll be a hard fight, and they’ll both take a lot of damage. We don’t have time to wait for them to heal. Especially now that… Well, Vlad just threatened you, right? His people are always near?”

  Vlad hadn’t threatened her—he had found her mother.

  Vlad knew where her mother was, and while he could be lying…she doubted it. A vampire like him wouldn’t need to.

  “What do you need from me?” Her voice was hoarse, as though she hadn’t used it in decades. She could barely feel her legs. What she could feel, however, was her magic. It bubbled and built, rising through her body. Electricity energized her, sizzling through her arms and across her skin.

  “Best-case scenario, you quickly end the challenge, delicately if possible, free Devon up to actually lead, and make sure we get the hell out of here. That demon is drawing attention from some interesting characters. Some of those spectators look like they had meth for breakfast. Seeing a real-life demon when you are probably plagued with theoretical demons is not a fun party. Three of the spectators are packing. I don’t feel like getting shot today.”

  “You are awfully chatty.”

  “It’s stress. Stress makes me talk.”

  Walt sat muttering to himself on the floor next to his recliner, one eye swollen shut.

  “We didn’t know what to do with him,” Dillon said, barely pausing to gesture.

  “Leave him.” Charity pulled the note tighter to her chest. “If I’m lucky, I’ll never see him again.”

  “We’ll make sure you’re lucky.”

  The sun rained down on the strange scene outside. Devon stood opposite Dale, engaged in a silent stare-off. Cole waited behind Dale, his enormous shoulders squared and his eyes hard, standing his ground. Devon’s pack waited behind him, their faces grim and their hands flexed. They thought they were about to fight. Barbara stood off to the side with Steve, withdrawn from the scuffle.

  Beyond their group, a horned creature ambled toward them from down the street, as though just learning to use its legs. Its misshapen limbs looked like they were covered in dried black tar, with claws instead of hands and hooves instead of feet. Stringy clumps of flesh fell from one thigh, and one huge tooth gaped from its swollen, red, pus-coated lips. Its eyes glowed red.

  “That is the ugliest demon I have ever seen,” Charity said, her stomach turning.

  “It’s barely a level-one demon,” Barbara said. “A group of uninformed witches can conjure one of those. It can barely function up here.”

  “Can it speak?” Charity asked.

  “No. It probably doesn’t even have a tongue. It’s in bad shape.”

  Charity gestured at it in annoyance, noticing a small cluster of men on the other side of the street watching it with wide eyes and slack jaws. “Why the hell haven’t you taken it down? Isn’t our job to hide magic from non-magical humans?”

  “Shifters need one true leader,” Dillon murmured close to her ear. “And right now, there are two. They need to sort it out so we can get moving.”

  Charity stared at Dillon for a beat, her heart in pieces, her nerves shot, her life in upheaval.

  I know where your mother is.

  Was that how Vlad knew Charity’s real father wasn’t Walt? And if so, did he have proof of her paternity? He was sure smug as hell—that had come through loud and clear…

  Warmth trickled through her middle, then turned into a gush of liquid heat to her limbs. Lava bubbled up from that place deep inside her, followed by a surge of heat so great that she momentarily lost her sight. The day returned, blotchy and overexposed. Her head felt light and electricity sizzled every inch of her flesh.

  Devon’s face snapped toward her.

  “Not this time,” Dale growled, springing toward Devon, following through on what must’ve been a challenge.

  The movement seemed so slow.

  “Where is my sword?” Charity asked distractedly. Dillon jogged backward.

  I don’t need a sword.


  She shoved a hand through the air. Electricity popped and crackled around her. Green surrounded Dale as he prepared to change, but a spark flared to life next to him and exploded in a silent shock wave of power.

  Electric fire scored his skin. His body flew to the side, his limbs windmilling, his eyes as big as the world. He smacked into a tree and fell to the ground in a heap.

  Cole had barely turned toward her, violence in his eyes, before she whipped her hand his way.

  Magic followed the path set by her hand—a small spark appeared next to the were-yeti’s mighty frame, then exploded in a concussion of air so strong it knocked his feet off the ground. Unlike Dale, he didn’t move as he soared through the air. He hit one of the vans, dented it, grunted, and landed on his feet. Only his feet weren’t prepared to hold him.

  His hands slapped the ground, followed by his face and then his body. He groaned loudly.

  Charity was already moving.

  Fire ate her alive. It scratched across her spine and punched her vital organs. She jogged out to the middle of the street, thrumming with the need for violence. Wanting to blow this whole neighborhood sky-high. A song drifted on the breeze, but it was off-key. Wrong, somehow. Intense agony screamed through her body, making her vision waver again, making her knees weak.

  She ignored it.

  The demon changed course, ambling toward her.

  It had been sent for her. One day, she would find its maker and enact her revenge. For now, she’d take out the messenger.

  She turned to face the creature then bent, falling into the depths of her magic. Floating on top of it. Sinking below the surface.

  The sky sparkled brighter, and the air filled with a noise like a bug zapper. The power was pounding at her, thrashing her from the inside out, and she’d accidentally called on the wrong magic. Her sun flares only worked on vampires.

  She pushed her hands forward. Balls of light condensed in her palms, spitting electricity and fire, and shot toward the demon. They hit it center mass, soaking into its middle before exploding. Body parts flew up and out, arcing through the sky before splatting against the cracked and pockmarked road.

  Still her power climbed, an internal explosion blazing across her bones. Her skin felt stretched. Her jaw ached from clenching it against the pain.

  “Charity.”

  Her name sounded distorted, as off and wrong as that loud tune shrieking through the day.

  “Charity!”

  The urgency in the speaker’s voice pulled her out from under the pounding waves of magic. A different sort of magic washed over her, soothing and cool.

  “Come back to me, Charity.”

  The fear in those words hit her first. Then the timbre, so familiar.

  The soothing magic pulled her out of the fog. She blinked against the glare of the day, the black receding from her field of vision.

  Devon stood five feet from her, his expression one of desperate determination. Pain tightened the skin around his eyes and made a vein jump over his clenched jaw.

  “It’s over,” he said, his next step toward her costing him obvious effort. “Let’s calm down. Let’s slow it down.”

  “It hurts, Devon,” she admitted, the act of forcing her magic down tearing her apart. “It’s hurting you.”

  “Don’t worry about me. This is nothing.” His next step came slow, like he was walking through water. “Calm down with me. Let me get to you.”

  A horn blared behind them.

  Without thinking, Charity spun. A blast of magic so potent it crackled like a lightning bolt exploded next to the oncoming vehicle. The metal dented. The car rocked up on two wheels before slamming back down. The driver’s eyes rounded as she reached for the glove box. Her door opened and a gun came up.

  “Andy,” Devon yelled. “Macy.”

  “On it.” Andy raced forward.

  “Yup.” Macy followed closely behind.

  They stood in the line of fire between Charity and the woman who clearly did not plan to take shit, regardless of whether it was magical.

  “Come back to me,” Devon said to Charity, forcing another step forward.

  Something moved in Charity’s chest, hot and sharp. It felt like her heart was being cut out. Devon winced and dropped his head, as though walking through a gale-force wind of razor blades.

  “We can handle this,” he said.

  “Ma’am, we’ll pay for it, I promise. If you’d just—” Andy’s pleas were cut short by the woman’s explicit description of what she’d like him to do to his balls.

  Charity let the shrieking tune cover it up. She stomped on her magic. Wrestled with it. Forced it down. The effect stole her breath and deadened her legs. Her arms dragged at her shoulders. Her back gave out and bowed. A moment later, she was falling, the blackness coming for her again.

  Chapter Five

  The pain cut off suddenly, and then Charity fell bonelessly to the ground. Devon barely got there before her head hit the pavement.

  “Everyone, load up,” Devon shouted, his heart in his throat. That was the most magic he’d ever felt from her. She clearly couldn’t handle it anymore. There was too much for her to force into submission. It was like being swept up in a tidal wave. “Dale, give that woman Roger’s card. Steve, get on the phone with Roger. We need to get word to Emery. Get him to the portal now.”

  “The plan was to leave at daybreak when—”

  “I don’t give a shit what the plan was, Dale.” Devon hefted Charity and headed toward the closer van. “She has no time. Get your ass in gear, or find yourself a new pack.”

  “Roger assigned—”

  Devon swung around and stared him down. “I don’t give a shit about Roger, and I certainly don’t give a shit about you. You heard me. Do as I say, or leave. Get in my way when I am trying to save this warrior fae, and I’ll kill you.”

  Dale’s chest swelled, and he took a step Devon’s way, a dickhead to the last. Before he could get the words out of his open mouth, Steve grabbed him by the shirt, bunched it, and threw, all in one movement. Dale’s arms windmilled as he flew through the air for the second time that afternoon.

  “I’ve got Roger’s card.” Cole reached into his sweats pocket and turned toward the ranting woman still waving her gun. Little did she know that a gun wouldn’t keep a shifter down for long, not unless it was a shot directly to the brain. Everything else would heal in time.

  “You’ve won another one,” Barbara said softly as Devon passed.

  He nearly did a double take, but he didn’t have time to dwell on her meaning. Charity’s breathing was shallow and her skin felt too hot. This was one of the bad episodes. One of the times when her body struggled to process her magic.

  He pumped out more magic to help balance her. His magic always seemed to have a positive reaction—the yang to her yin. Unfortunately, if he did any more, he’d lose himself to his wolf and be forced to change.

  “Only those with excellent control in Devon’s van,” Barbara said, following him and stopping by the door as he got Charity situated in the back.

  “Good point,” Dillon said, jogging over. “We forgot to mention that. When Charity loses control and Devon has to flood her with power, he’ll drive you wild with wanting to change. It’s not pleasant.”

  “I’m fine.” Macy jogged over as well, leaving Cole to deal with the irate woman. She seemed perturbed that he wasn’t worried about the gun two feet from his chest.

  “I’m out.” Rod headed to the other van.

  Steve paused with a phone to his ear, looking between the vans. Finally, his wild-eyed gaze settled on Devon. His lion clearly felt the call. He shook his head. “I better follow the linebacker kid without two brain cells to rub together.”

  Andy chortled as he got into the other van.

  Cole didn’t say a word as he got into the front passenger seat. Barbara filed into the middle bench seat, beside Dillon. Devon couldn’t see if Dale picked himself up and headed to the front van. At the moment, h
e didn’t care.

  “You guys are coming around, huh?” Dillon said to Barbara and Cole as Macy hopped into the driver’s seat.

  “That fae needs protection,” Cole said, buckling in. “It is our duty, but it’s also the smart thing to do. Protect her, and she’ll protect the pack. In this instance, I agree with the current alpha.”

  Cole’s words weren’t lost on Devon. The current alpha. He wasn’t offering his allegiance, he was participating for now. It was a big distinction.

  “Dude.” Macy looked at Cole. “Do you always sound like a robot with a broken volume button, or…”

  “I hope you grow on me,” Cole muttered. Or, at least, it was a mutter for him.

  Dillon jolted as the van pulled away. He spun around, looking down at Charity.

  “Stop!” he shouted.

  Macy slammed on the brakes, and they all bumped forward.

  “We don’t have time—” Devon started, but Dillon was already crawling over Barbara to get out of the van.

  “She got a note. She must’ve dropped it.” He fumbled with the lock before ripping open the door. A horn blared from behind them.

  “What’s he talking about?” Devon asked, rocking Charity, terror dripping down his spine. She was burning up and shivering. Something wasn’t right. She’d never reacted this badly before.

  “He’s…” Barbara twisted to try to see.

  Macy looked in the rearview mirror. “He grabbed something off the pavement.”

  “A note, did he say?” Cole tried to turn around in a seat that barely contained him.

  Dillon appeared at the van door as the horn blared again. The van in front had stopped down the road.

  “She got this.” Dillon motioned for Barbara to scoot over. He handed the note back to Devon. “She must’ve dropped it when she freaked out.”

  “She did not freak out; she had a magical—”

  “Yes, yes, we know,” Dillon interrupted Cole.

  Devon’s gaze snagged on the first line of the note. Then the last. Cold washed through him. “How did Vlad know she calls him her BFF? She only spoke of that around the pack. Didn’t she?”