The Castle of Wind and Whispers

by Steffanie Holmes

  “Well, wake up. I’ve got to talk to you all about something important.”

  Footsteps clattered from every corner of the house, and one by one the guys filtered in – Corbin and Rowan carried plates of meat pies (half-empty, I couldn’t help but notice), and Arthur, wearing boxer shorts with pictures of Asterisk characters on them and his Blood Lust hoodie.

  “Where are Flynn and Blake?” I asked.

  Rowan offered Aline the plate. She swiped three pies, looked thoughtful for a moment, and then grabbed a fourth. “They went to the village about an hour ago, with that trailer.”

  “What trailer?”

  “Flynn came inside at dinner and there was a car with a covered trailer in outside his studio, like a horse trailer. I saw it from the salad garden.” Rowan shrugged. “Sorry, I assumed you knew.”

  I groaned. Only this morning we’d discussed not going off with harebrained schemes on our own, and now Flynn and Blake had disappeared with a mystery trailer. Those two together was guaranteed to equal trouble. What the hell had they got themselves into now?

  12

  FLYNN

  “Shift it over there!” I snapped as a large metal spike bore down on my foot.

  “Where?” Blake lifted the other end of the statue, digging the corrugated iron into my toes.

  “Not there. Pull it left!”

  “That is left!”

  “The other left, you gammy eejit.”

  We managed to wobble our way out of the trailer and drag the statue across the darkened town green. In the center was a low concrete plinth that had once housed a statue of Winston Churchill. Two years back, some local hoodlums lobbed one of the arms off and the Council had taken the statue away while they argued over how much it would cost to repair. Along with other local artists, I submitted a proposal that we should replace the arm with a steampunk-style machine-gun. My proposal went unacknowledged. Wankers.

  This Irishman’s getting the last laugh.

  It took us three tries to heft my statue on top of the plinth. I checked the feet. Perfect. I’d lined the bolts up exactly.

  I went back to the rental car for my concrete drill. Blake held the statue while I drilled in the bolts. The sound shook the night and my heart pounded. Any moment I expected someone to run over and stop us.

  One. Two. Three. Four. I tossed down the drill and reached under the balaclava to wipe away a sheen of sweat from my forehead. The green was surrounded by shops, none of which were open after nine pm except the pub. And tonight was the monthly folk night, so the place would be busier than a confessional after Saint Paddy’s Day. If anyone heard the drilling, they’d be too legless to come investigate.

  Maybe we really will get away with this.

  I fitted and tightened the bolts, then stood back to admire the statue.

  “She looks wicked fierce,” Blake grinned.

  She did indeed. I’d made the witch a flowing dress out of sheets of corrugated iron. Hair made from wire brushes stuck out from all angles from beneath her pointed gramophone hat. She held her broom in one hand, the other raised – a garden fork with the tines bent and curled into a claw. On the end of the broom sat a tiny, long-necked cat with its paw raised in a similar menacing gesture.

  Some of my finest work, and it wasn’t even the half of what I had planned. “Now for the pièce de résistance,” I slapped my hand on the witch’s shoulder and retreated into my feelings, the way Candice taught me to do. I forced myself to think of all the times people had looked at me weird, told me I didn’t belong, all the times my uncle belted me around the head for being too much of a gas, all the times I’d wished I could be normal… and I poured that into the metal.

  You want to believe we’re witches. You want to believe we’re the ones who are going to marmalade you. Have at it!

  I poured more magic into the statue, focusing on the bolts, on holding them true, making them impenetrable by any human tool that might try to remove them.

  The metal heated up as Blake’s spirit magic shot through mine, mingling together to create a vacuum for belief. When it was so powerful it tugged at my power, pulling more into itself than I’d been willing to give, I stepped back. Blake sealed it with the spell we’d memorized from the grimoire, so that the statue would collect the belief rising from the village and store it like a giant belief grain silo.

  I might have let go of a tiny piece of my own magic, but as the village woke up in the morning and saw this statue on the green – having appeared from nowhere in the dark of night and held down with bolts that couldn’t be broken – we’d have all the magic we could possibly need.

  I tugged my balaclava down over my face. My heart raced. I was just like Banksy, sneaking around in the dead of night, planting controversial art in a public space like a subversive curator. Only, unlike Banksy, the village would be interacting with this piece in a way they’d never believed possible.

  We stood back to admire our work. The edges of the statue shimmered with magic. The air hummed with anticipation as our spell called belief to itself. I grinned back. “And to think, I was just going to stick it beside the mailbox.”

  “I’m impressed,” Blake whistled. “This is a plan so tricksy it’s worthy of the fae—”

  “Hey, what you think you’re doing?”

  Footsteps thudded on the grass behind us. I didn’t even turn around, just ran like mad toward the car. No time to shut the doors on the trailer or pick up my concrete drill. Luckily, I’d left the engine running. I dived into the driver’s seat and shoved my foot on the pedal. Blake grabbed the back of the seat and yanked his legs inside the car just as I swung away from the curb.

  Something thudded against the hood as we skidded around the corner. “Satanic scum!” a deep voice roared after me.

  “Eat my bollocks!” I yelled back as I sped toward Briarwood, leaving a trail of sizzling belief in my wake.

  13

  BLAKE

  “You did what?” Maeve screeched.

  She raced out from under the portcullis and battered my window before Flynn had even stopped the car. Behind her, the other guys crowded around, inspecting the trailer with a mixture of bemusement (Corbin), worry (Rowan), blankness (Aline) and mistrust (Arthur).

  Maeve however, was furious. The vein above her eyes stuck out like a Seelie at a metal-detecting convention.

  “Hi, Princess,” I waved at her through the window.

  “Get out of that damn car and tell me what you did.”

  She was hot when she was mad, all slanted eyes and flushed skin and that fearsome glower… when she looked like that, all fury and sex, I could see the resemblance to Daigh.

  Not that I’d ever tell her that.

  I grinned to myself. Or maybe I should…

  “Blake!” Maeve’s fist on the window startled me out of my daydream. “Tell me right now.”

  “We erected Flynn’s witch statue in the middle of the village green,” I replied, sweeping an annoying black curl out of my eye. I left the window up for now, and the door locked. It seemed safer. Apparently Flynn had a death wish, because he jumped out of the car and raced around to her.

  “What in Athena’s name possessed you to do that?”

  “Come on, Einstein. You’ve got to admit it’s brilliant.” Flynn’s eyes danced. He grabbed Maeve’s arms and turned her in a circle. She squealed as he dipped her down, holding her across the back then extending his hand out so she could twirl underneath it. She didn’t twirl, of course. She yanked her hand out of Flynn’s grasp and folded her arms again. Fine. I shoved the door open, grabbed Flynn’s hand, held it up and twirled beneath it, pointing my toes in an elegant flourish. I finished by planting a wet kiss on his cheek.

  “Ack, you wanker!” Flynn doubled over, gagging and wiping spittle over his face.

  “Flynn!” Maeve yelled.

  He scratched his head. “Sorry, Ma. You should be thanking us, though. We just created a big ol’ vessel to collect all the belief in the village. Aft
er everyone wakes up and discovers a mysterious witch sculpture smack in the middle of the green that can’t be removed no matter how hard they try, their belief is going to leap up like a dog with a stick up his arse.”

  “And what were you planning to do with all this belief?”

  “Slay some fae, of course.”

  Maeve’s face twisted. “Okay, so that is actually brilliant.”

  “It was all my idea,” I said quickly.

  “It was not!” Flynn shot back.

  “Guys!” Maeve yelled. “I don’t actually care. Did we not have a conversation this very morning about not going off on your own with harebrained ideas?”

  Flynn’s smile froze on his face.

  “It was all his idea.” I patted Flynn’s shoulder, giving him a shove toward Maeve.

  Flynn opened his mouth to protest, but Maeve plastered her hand over his mouth. “And would not you agree that this stunt is the very definition of a harebrained idea?”

  Flynn dropped to his knees in front of Maeve, his hands clasped in front of him, batting his dark eyelashes. “Please forgive me, O majestic one, O Maeve of the boundless bosom and arse that won’t quit, O ravishing goddess, O mighty quoter of scientific theories and slayer of Arthur’s mead. You’re such a stunner, never in my life have I beheld a finer or more shapely behind—”

  “Oi, keep it in your pants while the mother’s around,” Corbin said.

  “Don’t mind me, sweetie. I’m taking notes,” Aline grinned.

  “—of such heavenly and beddable physique, of the brain so big it’s a wonder it fits in your noggin, would you find it in your big beautiful heart to forgive this wee poor bugger for his infraction…”

  Maeve’s face remained stern, but her shoulders shook. “Flynn…” she moaned, then a laugh burst out of her.

  Flynn grinned and hugged her legs. “You laughed. I’m off the hook.”

  “Get up, you fool.” Maeve lifted him to his feet. He threw his arms around her, nearly knocking her over.

  “And me?” I lifted an eyebrow.

  “Of course you.” Maeve leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I know you weren’t the brains behind this one. Or lack of brains, as it were. This is all Flynn. Come inside.”

  I slid my arm around Maeve’s waist as we trudged back through the inner courtyard into the Great Hall. Her sweet, spicy smell invaded me, mixing with the excitement of the car chase and the residual spirit magic that hummed in my veins. I’d given more than I’d meant to that statue, and my reserves were running low. Maeve hadn’t been in the frame of mind for bedroom shenanigans since we’d returned, and I knew she’d last topped up from Rowan and Corbin in London, so she was good. I, on the other hand, was getting a serious case of blue balls (Flynn’s phrase – descriptive and accurate). And although he was attractive enough with his floppy red hair and stupid grin, Flynn didn’t want to ‘cross-swords’ (another delightful phrase I picked up) with me, and I didn’t think the others would appreciate my advances.

  Also, I missed Maeve. I hadn’t had a chance to be alone with her since the empty office in London, the day I realized she felt more deeply for the others than she did for me. The rejection prickled at the back of my neck. I knew she’d told Corbin and Flynn she loved them, and I was guessing Arthur, too, since she managed to tempt him into the harem. She probably told Rowan about her feelings for him that night she stayed away with him and Corbin and they came back reeking of each other.

  Maybe she didn’t want me now that they’d figured out they were hot for each other? Maybe she had no use for me anymore?

  I hoped not. Even though Maeve didn’t love me, I didn’t want to leave her. She meant everything to me… and as much as I tried not to think of Briarwood as home – because I knew I’d have to leave one day – the feeling of returning to the castle after all those nights away was like the first spoonful of hot curry. I was kind of attached to the decadent human inventions of beds and whiskey and indoor plumbing.

  Briarwood and Maeve had wormed their way under my skin.

  And the guys… I hated to admit it, but I kind of liked them. Ever since Corbin made the stop at my parents’ old house, they’d all been treating me differently – Arthur threw insults at me every chance he had and Rowan still barely made eye contact, but the insults and the silence were good-natured, comfortable. I was one of them now.

  One of them.

  Don’t get used to it, the voice in my head reminded me. Maeve’s in charge – you’re going to last as long as she needs your spirit magic, and then you’ll be out of the harem and her life.

  If you even survive the Slaugh.

  We crowded into the Great Hall. The guys flopped down on to their favorite chairs. I went to sit on the bean bag I usually chose, but Maeve tugged me toward the couch. “Sit with me,” she whispered.

  I grinned. Yeah, like I could refuse Maeve with her heavy eyes and cheeks still pink from her anger at Flynn. I dropped down into the soft couch. Maeve slid in beside me, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. My fingers grazed the side of her breast, and all thoughts of leaving and the Slough flew out of my head.

  “We were about to have a meeting before you showed up,” Arthur said from behind the bar. He opened a bottle of mead and poured out a goblet for everyone except Rowan.

  “About our fae situation, I suppose.” I accepted the goblet he held out to me and gulped back the sweet alcohol. By Oberon, that stuff was good. The fae had honey wine, but like all their food, I’d never been able to drink it. At least Arthur’s gave me a decent buzz before I threw up.

  “Thanks to the Banksy wannabes here, we have a growing vessel of power to use against them,” Maeve began, sipping her drink. “But we still don’t know if it’s enough to stop the Slaugh. I think it’s time we spoke to Daigh.”

  “You do?” That was a surprise. It wasn’t like Maeve to change her mind once she’d made it up, especially not when she believed she had logic on her side.

  “I do,” Maeve yawned. “But not now. It’s late, and I’m about done with emotional beatings today. Bedtime, all of you. We’ll summon the evil fairy in the morning.”

  The evil fairy. She had that right, and she barely knew the half of it. I wasn’t really sure I wanted to see Daigh again.

  A sliver of hope worked its way into my chest. Liah. Maybe I’d be able to get Daigh to talk about her. Even though she was trying to destroy all humans, I still wanted to know she was okay. At the church, Liah could have shot me right through the chest, but she hesitated. She told Daigh it was so that Maeve wouldn’t hate him, but that seemed weak reasoning to me considering Maeve had already made her feelings about Daigh clear.

  Maybe she lied. Maybe there was still a way I could reach Liah.

  The group split up. Rowan went to the kitchen for his nighttime tea ritual. Aline trailed after him, holding up the hem of Rowan’s jeans so they wouldn’t slide down her narrow hips. Flynn and Corbin both gave Maeve long, lingering kisses. Arthur came over and held his arms out. “You want a lift up to bed?”

  She shook her head, squeezing my knee, her fingers sliding along my thigh and springing my cock to life. “Not tonight. It’s weird while Aline is here, you know.”

  “Sure.” He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “Sweet dreams, Einstein.”

  Arthur’s words sent a shiver through Maeve’s body, but her face said it wasn’t one of pleasure. Of course, the dream. She’d been having it more and more often.

  A sickening thought occurred to me as I watched her slink up the stairs. What if she’d snuck in a nap while I was busy being a guerrilla artist? What if she’d seen whose body was on the sixth stake, and she knew I’d been hiding it from her? What if that was why she’d been keeping me close by her tonight?

  I sprinted up the stairs after Maeve. “Hey, Princess,” I whispered in her ear. “You fancy some company?”

  She smiled. “I was hoping you’d be eager, but fair warning – I’m probably just going to
fall asleep in your armpit.”

  I lifted my arm to display my pit proudly. “Consider it yours.”

  We climbed to the second floor together, my heart racing. In her bathroom under the curving staircase up to her bedroom, Maeve handed me a bulk pack of toothbrushes. “Choose one,” she insisted, elbowing me as she spat her own toothpaste in the sink. “I want you guys to have what you need in here.”

  I took a black one and pulled it to my lips. Maeve watched me smear the toothpaste across my teeth, rubbing it with the brush the way Flynn had taught me. “That’s way too much pressure. Try in circles, like this.” She demonstrated and I copied. “Atta boy. Now you don’t have that fae magic keeping you young and handsome, you want to keep this up twice a day, or you’ll end up at the dentist. And if you think Daigh’s torture was bad, wait until you need a root canal.”

  I rubbed my chin, where a few days of stubble had grown in. “At least I haven’t slit my throat shaving yet. There were a few hairy moments there, haha.”

  “Urgh, that’s a horrible pun. You’ve been spending too much time with Flynn.” Maeve ran her hand along my jaw, her touch searing my skin. “I like it like this. It makes you look dangerous.”

  “I am dangerous.”

  She flicked my ear. “Of course you are, cutie. Just don’t go full-on beard. I don’t think Arthur could handle the competition.”

  After we finished our teeth, we climbed the stairs to her bedroom. I inspected the stack of science books on Maeve’s desk while she tossed her clothes off and settled into her bed. She rubbed her eyes. “I keep having the dream,” she said. “The one you showed me, with Briarwood in ruins and the burned bodies and the six stakes.”

  “I know.” I pulled off my own clothes and slid in beside her, copping a look at her naked body, sinuous and languid, ripe for picking.

  “You know?”

  “When you have it, Princess, so do I.”