Black Sheep of Faery: Books 1-2 Page 9

  But I will not stop him this time.

  I can’t.

  This is where I’m supposed to be. I already wasted so many years and I refuse to waste any more. He’s the only person since Fitz who has made me feel anything. And maybe I wasn’t ready for it fifty years ago, but Hook was right. Belle was right. Hatter was right. I can’t run away forever.

  I’ve made my choice.

  To Tack Each Again to its Lambkin

  It feels wonderful to have drumsticks in my hands again instead of weapons, creating something instead of breaking it. I bang the last song to a close, grinning and wiping sweat from my brow as applause thunders from the audience. I leave the rest of my band mates to schmooze, and slide through the crowd and up to the table in the balcony. Belle, Jackie, Red, and Hatter grin and clap at me. With no open seats, I perch on Hatter’s lap, shivering at the kiss he presses to the back of my neck.

  “You were brilliant, love.”

  “Looks like your grand opening is a success thanks to me.” I grin at him over my shoulder.

  His grip on my waist tightens as Jackie, Belle, and Red burst into laughter. “Wicked woman.”

  I gaze out over the Mad Hatter, his new colorful club with a smile. He apparently had this in the works for months, long before the drama with Alice. I’ve yet to summon up the courage to ask if it was because of me, unsure which answer I prefer.

  It’s a strange place, less of a dance club or even a pub. People do dance and drink, but he created a place more to sit together with friends and unwind, a place to hear great bands and music. It’s like a smoky blues club or piano bar remixed. Complete with robot DJs adding a techno beat to the trombones and saxophone. It even offers a strange alcoholic version of high tea. I’ll need to muster up a lot of courage to try that.

  There’s a magic at work here, a place unlike any others. A place only Hatter could create.

  There’s a large assortment of Fae milling about, the colors and music drawing them like moths to a flame. I can’t blame them, I never want to leave.

  “Your Daft Punk lookalike DJ’s are pretty good.”

  “Who says they’re lookalikes?” Hatter raises a brow, the corner of his lips quirking.

  I frown at him, shaking my head in disbelief. “There’s no way.” I spin my head to inspect the robots. It’s impossible to tell for sure. But, he can’t know them.

  Hatter just pulls me closer into his body, a mysterious smile spreading across his mouth. I shake my head and nuzzle into his neck, barely stopping myself from licking up his jaw he smells so good.

  His fingers trace the lion tattoo on my arm, raising goosebumps along my skin, chasing after his fingers. He stops a waitress in a steampunk Mad Hatter costume, grabbing drinks for all of us. I wrinkle my nose at mine in suspicion. It looks like the galaxy in a glass.

  “Trust me, pet. It’s my own special recipe.”

  “That doesn’t reassure me.”

  Belle sniffs hers and inspects it closely before she shrugs and takes a sip. Her brows pop high on her forehead, and she takes a longer sip. It gives me the courage I need to try it myself.

  Colors explode on my tongue. I didn’t know colors had taste, but this proves it. It tastes like blue, like purple, with splashes of pink, green, silver.

  “What is this?”

  His grin widens. “It’s a secret. You have to keep coming if you want them.”

  I shoot him a flirtatious wink. “You don’t have to bribe me to come here you know.”

  “Do I?” There’s a longing in his voice, a seriousness on his face.

  “You should.” I look deep into his eyes, willing him to believe me.

  He gives me the mad grin of his, not reassuring me. “Of course, pet.”

  I frown at him, but Belle’s phone screeches, making us all jump.

  “Sorry.” She taps at her phone. “Just a calendar reminder.”

  “Of what?” Jackie asks.

  “The Wild Hunt begins next month. You should all probably keep your schedules free. Everyone across the globe will be on high alert.”

  I down the rest of my drink, slamming the empty martini glass on the table, scowling at her. I’m glad to see Jackie and Red with matching angry expressions on their faces.

  Before I can respond, Hatter pushes me to my feet, standing up behind me and grabbing my hand. “Come on, love. Let’s go play around on the piano.”

  “Can we do that?” I follow him down the circular, iron steps, my concern over Belle’s words disappearing as the magic of the bar embraces me.

  He pulls out the bench, gesturing for me to take a seat. “We can do anything we want. I do own the place.”

  “But what about Daft Punk?”

  He sits close beside me, his leg pressed against mine. “They’ll follow my lead.”

  I kiss him, hard, excitement shivering through my veins. “What do you want to play?”

  Hatter’s mouth spreads in his genuine smile, the one he only shows me. “I’ll follow your lead.”

  Hatter and Bo

  DWELL

  A Bo and Hatter Short Story

  Keep reading to find out how they met!

  DWELL

  Music, magic, and marijuana smoke swirl around the rooftops. Hatter closes his eyes as Get Back reaches the crescendo, his mouth framing the lyrics, his fingers tapping out the notes Billy Preston plays on the keyboard against his purple trousers.

  The lingering effects of his nightmares float away into the chilled, winter air. For the moment, he forgets. Forgets the death and violence and horror of the war. The piles of remains, the stench of rotting flesh. The memories haunting him every night disappear as he’s wrapped in the enchantment of McCartney’s words.

  The hair on the back of his neck rises, gooseflesh prickling along his skin.

  There’s a Fae here.

  He scans the crowd caught in worship for the rock gods beneath the brim of his hat and lowered lashes.

  There.

  A woman bundled in a emerald green jacket and lavender scarf, auburn curls tumbling around her face. Her pale, elfin face is slack with rapture, her eyes flashing with awe fixed on the neighboring roof. She pays no attention to the celebrating fans around her, she’s completely focused on the music.

  He inches closer, his stomach tightening.

  Something about her calls to him. Maybe it’s the loneliness she’s shrouded in, a match to his own. Maybe he recognizes a kindred spirit in her flashy colored clothes. Maybe it’s her Fae nature. Maybe it’s something else, something soul deep and as magical as the music enveloping them.

  This is why he came back to London, begging for a job as a Librarian instead of his work taking him away from his fellow Fae, his fellow Wonderland characters. He craves a family again. Love. Friendship. His ability to recognize Fae made him an asset traveling the world, searching for newly born Fae.

  But he’s had enough. He wants to return home. Belle was gracious enough to give him the Librarian job and send out replacements for him.

  He was reacquainting himself with his city when the music drew him here. His fingers itch to skip across piano keys, but even with his gifts of persuasion, he doesn’t think he’ll get close enough to join them.

  The woman turns an he catches her eye. Hers widen as she recognizes his nature, then narrows in suspicion. Hatter fights a grin, not wanting to scare her off.

  His eyes rove up and down the length of her, trying to place her story. The red color of her hair isn’t natural. She isn’t one of the Fae who embraces their stories. She’s trying everything she can to be someone else, someone new.

  Lots of Fae do that, their stories too dark or heartbreaking to embrace. Or the ones who try to live their stories here on Earth and find themselves disappointed in reality. Life rarely works out as well as fiction. The heroes aren’t paragons of virtue who always defeat the villains. Most of the time, villains win.

  Hatter ran from his story at first too, not wanting to be the madman. But after t
he war, he grew tired of darkness. After seeing so many years of true madness, he sought refuge in the character of the Mad Hatter.

  This woman looks like she’d fit right into Wonderland, her bright and merry clothing, her expression of wonderment.

  He sees the moment she realizes who he is. Her eyes round in recognition, the suspicion and worry fading away. But there’s no welcome on her face, just a slight nod of acknowledgment, and she turns her attention back to The Beatles.

  Hatter continues pushing through the crowd of humans enjoying their musical lunch break towards her anyway. He can’t stop himself.

  He has to know her.

  The fog intensifies, freezing mist clings to his clothes and skin. The woman doesn’t seem aware of the wet cold. She’s kept warm by the music..

  The band moves into opening strains of I’ve Got a Feeling right as he reaches her.

  He grins at her annoyed scowl and gives her an elaborate bow. “May I have this dance?”

  She raises a brow. “Will you leave me alone after it’s over?”

  “Of course.”

  She sighs. “Fine.”

  Hatter’s smile grows, delight unfurling in his chest as he eases her into his arms. He breathes deep, her scent enchanting him. She smells like a bakery — vanilla and honey with the slightest hint of cinnamon.

  Seduced by her aroma and the music swelling in the air, Hatter loses himself even more, a peace he hasn’t felt in a long time settling over him.

  A little of the sadness in the woman’s eyes fades away, her cloak of loneliness flapping away in the foggy breeze. Maybe she’s like him, tired of running from her story, ready to come home.

  “Who are you?” he asks, his lips right by her ear.

  “Bo.”

  His brows raise. Bo Peep. She’s nothing like the blonde girl drowning in ruffles.

  “Hatter.”

  She nods. “I figured. Enough small talk. I want to listen while we still can.”

  He inclines his head. “Of course, milady.”

  Bo scoffs, but refuses to comment further, her attention returning to the band. If The Beatles weren’t so amazing, he’d be offended.

  Ringo has on the most amazing coat, a bright orange-red. Hatter wants it.

  The two of them push and pull at each other, grins spreading on their faces as they react to the musical spell. They jump, dance, and sing along, shoved into each other by the other fans surrounding them.

  He wants to kiss her. He sneaks another glance at her mouth. Her tongue darts out and he can’t look away as she moistens her lips.

  He loses track of where he is, who he is. The rooftop and the fog and mist and cold disappears until the only things remaining are the music and this whimsical creature in his arms.

  The Beatles must have a little Fae in them somehow. A hundred years after their deaths, he’s convinced they’ll return.

  Their voices bring forth visions of crystal waters and the whispers of rustling blades of grass. Lennon’s voice is an intimate whisper and a call to revolution.

  Bo dances closer to him, her body an inch away from his. He keeps his hands light on her waist as they both still, the only unmoving objects in the entire city. Her eyes shine bright as emeralds, dancing with excitement as McCartney croons to them.

  She takes another step and Hatter forgets how to breathe.

  Her smile is hypnotic, the slightest quirk to the edges of her lips. She peeks up at him, mischief crinkling her eyes as she leans in to press a kiss against his lips.

  Hatter’s fingers dig into her hips and he slants his mouth over hers. She tastes like cupcakes. It makes him hungry for more.

  Screams rip them apart, sends them tumbling away from each other.

  The police must have finally had enough.

  She’s swallowed by the scared humans, the mass panic separates them before Hatter has the chance to grab her. She’s gone.

  A familiar howl screeches in his ears.

  No.

  It can’t be.

  He tilts his head to peer into the sky, his stomach dropping to the floor. It’s the Jabberwocky.

  And Hatter’s here without a single weapon.

  By the time Hatter makes it to the bottom floor and outside, the monster is gone. He rips his hat off with a curse, crumpling it in his hand. If he wasn’t so fond of his new fedora, he’d crush it beneath his boot.

  How did the Jabberwocky get here? It’s supposed to be locked up in a habitat for fictional monsters.

  Belle better have answers for him.

  Police lights and sirens shatter the remains of the enchantment still clinging to him. He slips away from the chaos, taking the back way to the Library, Bo’s taste still on his lips.

  He hopes Belle has some answers about her as well.

  Bo Peep.

  A wicked smile flickers on his lips at the thought of her. He’s intrigued. He has to find her.

  Inside the library, Librarians and agents rush around in a panic. Clearly, they’ve already heard about the Jabberwocky attacking London.

  This is going to upset a lot of humans. He knows enough about their history to be worried.

  He stops Miss Havisham. “Where’s Belle?”

  She glowers at him. “Looking for you.”

  “Anything more specific?” He tries on a charming smile to soften her.

  She’s having none of it. “Last time I saw her she was in the stacks. Fiction, Carrol, Lewis.”

  “Research?”

  “Of course. You’ve met Belle, correct?”

  Hatter smacks a loud kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for your help, my lovely.”

  Miss Havisham wipes her face with lips twisted in disgust. “Go away.”

  Hatter laughs and heads towards the stacks. He knows exactly where his story is. He winds his way through the hundreds of shelves, nodding at the Fae he knows, ignoring the non-fiction shelves covered in dust and shadows.

  Belle isn’t alone when he finds her.

  It’s her. It’s Bo.

  She’s shed her jacket, revealing the most delightful outfit he’s ever seen — a green and gold blouse tucked into a pair of red trousers.

  Her eyes widen at his approach and the swords in her hands clang against each other.

  Belle smiles. “I was hoping you’d show.”

  He leans against one of the shelves, eying his story on the table in front of them. “Of course. You’ll need me to take care of him.”

  Bo scoffs, no hint of her earlier softness. “We’d be fine.”

  Hatter raises a cocky brown to match his maddening grin. “I’m the one who caught him before.”

  Bo bares her teeth in an answering feral smile. “Maybe you should have done a better job.”

  Belle holds up her hands. “I’m glad the two of you are getting along so well. Because you are now partners.”

  Hatter rubs his hands together with a wide, bordering on evil, smile while Bo spits out a string of curses that burn his ears.

  This is going to be a blast.

  WILD

  Fables Deep in Time's Abyss

  Riders on the Storm by The Doors plays in my head as the night wraps around me, the darkness a soft, if chilly, embrace. Unable to get the song out of my head for weeks, I’ve almost talked the rest of my band into playing it at our next gig.

  The breeze carries Hatter’s milky lavender scent to my nose, reassuring me he’s still close by. With closed eyes, I call animals to me, asking for their assistance. Wings slice through the air, footsteps skitter across the cobblestones as they respond to my request.

  I drum out a beat on my legs, the signal Hatter waits for. His hand brushes mine as he passes me, and my heart tightens in response. I shake it off, no time for tingly feelings right now, no matter how tempted I am to shove him against the building and press my lips into his.

  I fall into step behind him, keeping the birds blocking the security cameras, while the squirrels and rats and other small creatures invade the building. Sh
outs sound from inside, making a satisfied grin spread across my face.

  It’s Hatter’s turn.

  I lurk in the shadows while he strolls inside with confidence, like he owns the place. One of the guards sees him and stops trying to chase the animals out, coming over to Hatter with a confused frown, his hand on the flashlight swinging from his belt.

  “We’re closed, monsieur.”

  Hatter beams, his playing cards flipping through his fingers. “Not for me. I’m a special guest here to see the Vorpal sword. You’re going to take me right to it.”

  The guard’s eyes are drawn to the cards, his expression softening and going blank. “Of course. Forgive me. We’ve got a slight problem at the moment, though.”

  Hatter’s cards flip faster and faster. “Your friends can handle the pests.”

  I scowl at him calling my helpers pests, and I send a request to the animals to open up a path for Hatter and his new buddy, but to continue distracting the other guards. Hatter keeps his fedora pulled low over his eyes to protect his identity from the cameras my birds can’t reach as he saunters into the next room.

  This is the part of the plan I don’t like—splitting up so I can keep these guards occupied while Hatter keeps the other one under his spell. If he needs backup, I won’t know. I glance down at my arm where my lion is ready to spring from my skin, and consider sending him after Hatter. No. It could cause Hatter to lose his focus or be enough for the guard to break free from Hatter’s influence. I just have to trust Hatter can handle it.

  A strength of mine.

  One of the guards trips over a cat, landing on his ass, the other guard falling into him until they’re a pathetic pile on the floor. Poor sods will probably be fired for this. I’d feel worse, but based on how incompetent they are, they rather deserve it.