Jet lag had taken on a whole new meaning. From New York, Garrett had called a cab that somehow had the extraordinary ability to travel between any bridge or tunnel in the world in under a second. The driver, Willie, had been a hoot, regaling her with tales of worldwide escapades, and confiding that she was the second lackey he’d ever driven in his cab, Clover being the first. The cab itself was another story all together. A nondescript sedan from the outside, it was opulence on four wheels on the inside. Miraculously large enough to fit at least twenty people, it had plush velvety seats and a curious serving table that mysteriously dished out an assortment of goodies, the aroma of freshly baked brownies filling the space like car freshener. Andie’s only complaint was that the ride was too short. One minute they were at the Tappan Zee Bridge, the next moment, they were emerging from a tunnel in Limerick. From there, they’d travelled on foot through the backwoods of Ireland on a faerie path, of all things.
Now on the final leg of their journey, Andie’s anxiety was at fever pitch. Garrett had been as much of a gentleman as he could be as they’d navigated through hills, streams, dense thickets, and bogs. According to Garrett, there was only one way for a first-time human guest of the Seelie Court to enter the other realm—through a portal on an island in the middle of a lake in County Donegal, but only after a long journey—an epic runaround if she ever saw one.
To say that they’d camped overnight was using the term loosely. There was a campfire, a can of beans, and roasted squirrel, but not much else. They’d slept on the hard, cold forest ground with only a stolen blanket from Finn’s safe house to keep them warm. Garrett was a most eager provider of body warmth, and admittedly, Andie had welcomed lying next to the pooka late at night—not for the obvious reasons that would pop to mind, but because he did have a satisfyingly warm body. Hot, even.
As they prepared to leave their campsite that morning, a thousand questions buzzed through Andie’s mind. Fear of the unknown, anxiety over seeing Clover again, topped off with a growing attraction to her gorgeous travelling partner created a dangerous cocktail of apprehension in her head.
“Don’t think too hard, doll face. You might hurt yourself,” Garrett quipped.
“Run it by me again, will you? I’m supposed to jump into some kind of wormhole, but only after performing a particular task—and there’s no way of knowing what the task may be until the moment before I’m about to jump?”
“You’re so adorable when you pester me with silly questions. We’ve been through this countless times. We’ll know what the portal wants when we get there. It’s usually some ridiculous thing, like reciting a poem or solving a riddle. Faerie portals are absurdly bored; they are entertained by the most mundane things.”
“And we’re supposed to fly over a lake to get to an island that houses the portal? Couldn’t we just take a boat? What if those Unseelies are still after us? What will we do then?”
“Unless you’ve packed an inflatable raft in your purse, I’m afraid paddling to the island is out of the question. We could swim, but I’d rather stay dry, so levitation is really the only plausible option,” Garrett explained. “Do you think you could break character for one second and just trust that I won’t let anything bad happen to you? There’s nothing out there I can’t defend you from. Not to brag or anything, but I’m kind of a big deal.”
Andie had to laugh. “You can’t say not to brag or anything, then literally brag about something in the next breath.”
Garrett extended his hand and offered up one of his trademark smiles. “Trust me?”
Andie didn’t really have much of a choice. She took Garrett’s hand and trekked on, hoping he was really as big of a deal as he claimed to be.
Hours later and after irreparable damage to the soles of her feet, they were almost at their destination. As the miles piled on, Garrett had become progressively quieter and more pensive, and much to her surprise, Andie had actually started to miss his wisecracks.
“Hey,” she finally prodded, not able to help herself. “You all right?”
“Tippy-top,” said Garrett.
Andie peered at him sideways, not buying it at all. “Don’t lie. Something’s up. You’re not your usual self.”
“And what, pray tell, is my usual self like?”
“Absurdly narcissistic and incessantly flirty?”
When he really found something funny, Garrett had one of those deep, spontaneous laughs that were so unapologetically mirthful they were downright contagious. It had quickly become one of Andie’s favorite things about him.
“You are such a nag. Do you know that?” Garrett said between snickers.
While some may call it nagging, Andie labeled it persistence. “Seriously, though. What’s up?”
Garrett rolled his eyes and exhaled—a clear sign of caving in. “If you must know, I’m feeling a little antsy,” Garrett said, as he shot her an uncharacteristically sheepish look. “Being in the woods this whole time. It’s like a trigger, you know?”
Andie tried to puzzle through what Garrett was saying.
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
She raised a finger. “Give me a minute.”
“Let’s just say that my current form, though flawless, is wanting. To be honest,” he shrugged, “I miss walking on all fours.”
Andie burst out laughing. “You want to shapeshift?”
“I didn’t bring a change of clothes, so I’ll just have to hold off until we get to the other side.”
Comical though it seemed on the surface, it made Andie wonder. How much of this gorgeously handsome man was even close to human at all? As if it wasn’t bizarre enough that he was a faerie, he preferred to be one in the body of a leopard. A tiny shiver went up her spine as a time-worn adage suddenly came to mind: Beware of the company you keep.
“You’re not afraid of me now, are you?” Garrett asked.
Andie shook her head and forced a smile on her face. “Nah.”
Her response was met with another heart-stopping smile. “Good, because we’re here.”
They emerged from a clearing onto the sandy shore of a pristine lake, their small island destination at its center. In a few short minutes, Andie would be crossing over into another dimension. There was no turning back now.
“What now?” she asked.
“Now, you hold on tight,” Garrett said as he closed the distance between them. “Put your arms around my neck.”
Standing face to face with her arms around him and his hands at the small of her back, they looked like they were about to dance. Instead, they flew. She gripped him tighter as they crossed the lake, unintentionally digging her nails into his back.
“Ouch,” Garrett said playfully, his face only inches from hers as they glided just above the surface of the clear blue water.
Before she knew it, they landed on the island and Garrett let her go. She righted herself and evoked a modicum of composure. She wasn’t sure what gave her the greater high—flying or being in Garrett’s arms. When she regained her bearings, she noticed they were standing next to what looked like an old well that had been filled in with stones.
“Is this the portal?”
Garrett nodded. “You’re up,” he said as he stood aside so she could come closer. Then he leaned forward like he was straining to hear something emanating from the portal.
“What’s going on?” she asked, not being able to stand the suspense.
Garrett put a finger to his lips. “It’s telling me what you need to do.” He bent forward again, then nodded sagely. “It seems you are to solve a riddle.”
Panic gripped her. She’d never been great at tests. She wondered if she could use the search function on her mobile phone, but quickly conceded the portal would probably consider that cheating. “Let’s do this.”
Garrett cleared his throat. “Used to bid goodbye or to say hello. Better wet than dry. Some are quick, some are slow. What am I?”
An imaginary clock counted down in Andie’s head as she quickly deciphered the clues. She repeated the riddle to herself, and then there it was—the answer, plain and clear. “A kiss. You are a kiss!”
“Indeed, I am,” Garrett said. Then he leaned forward and brought his lips down to hers in a slow, tender kiss.
As Andie’s knees buckled from under her, she gently pushed the pooka away, afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop.
“You did great,” Garrett said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
Andie blushed to high heavens and turned her attention on the portal. Nothing happened. “What’s going on? How come it didn’t work?”
“Oh, the portal said wiggle your nose and touch your toes. I threw the riddle in because I wanted to kiss you.”
For a brief second, she equal parts wanted to kill him and kiss him. She tugged at his shirt, bringing his face level with hers. “You could have just asked.”
Finn was proving harder to kill than Alistair had initially thought. Admittedly, he was an excellent soldier. It was, after all, Alistair himself who’d molded him into the fine warrior that he was today. He’d known it wouldn’t be an easy task, which is why he’d sent some of his finest soldiers to carry out the deed. What he hadn’t counted on was Garrett. Finn alone was a hard target. The two of them together were practically invincible. Alistair quickly realized some jobs were too important to delegate; to get it done right, he’d have to do it himself.
He went to his desk and opened the journal. His daily missives from his pliable marionette had been ever so informative. Therese was the ideal operative—completely devoid of moral fiber and servile to a fault. The years it took to break her in had definitely paid off. He dipped the quill in ink and asked his question.
Has Finn returned to the realm?
He laid his quill down and waited. As the minutes ticked on, he silently cursed Therese for being unresponsive. Alas, even the seemingly perfect minion had her faults. He closed the journal and decided to give his newly acquired captive a visit. He always did enjoy seeing Liz. Now that Finn was otherwise enamored, Liz was essentially unattached. Toying with the idea of a romantic alliance with the spirited beauty got Alistair’s blood pumping. He admittedly found great amusement in claiming for himself what belonged to others.
As he crossed his chamber to leave, a distinct presentiment tugged at the edges of his awareness. Like a familiar scent or a remembered task, something made him stop and take in his surroundings. No sound alerted his senses, but a presence. Moving silently to the fireplace, he recognized a singular aura, akin to a soul’s fingerprint. When he realized he had an intruder, Alistair brought his hands together in applause.
“Well done, soldier. I’m impressed,” Alistair announced to the empty room.
Barely making a sound, Finn rappelled down the chimney and entered the room through the fireplace.
“I knew it was you,” Alistair said as he faced-off with his onetime prodigy and friend. “It’s quite serendipitous, actually. I had just a few moments ago decided to end your life with my bare hands, and like magic, here you are. Talk about luck.”
“Did you know?” Finn asked, his voice cold as ice.
“That you would slither in here like a rabid raccoon and attempt to murder me? No. I did not know. Neither did I expect it, but a leprechaun can hope. Now that you’re here, let’s begin, shall we?”
Alistair assumed a fighting stance. While he’d never intended to kill the lad, like a rolling stone gathering speed, their present circumstances have inescapably led to this moment. One of them had to go, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be him. He delivered a low roundhouse kick, knocking Finn off his feet. In the next second, Alistair was on top of him, ready to deliver a deadly blow to his neck. Instead, he slapped him across the face. “Defend yourself, soldier. You’re making this too easy to be enjoyable. What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“Have you known all this time that I’m your son?” Finn shouted.
Alistair let him go. “What are you talking about?”
Finn sat up and raked his fingers through his head like he meant to draw blood. He blew out a long breath, his steely gray eyes intent on Alistair. “Anna told me. She was going through my mother’s old things and found a journal.”
Alistair shook his head. “I am not your father. I knew Brielle, yes, but she would have told me if we had sired a child together. We were barely together, a passing fancy.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Sifting through the memories of numerous lifetimes spent with Finn by his side, Alistair sought to discover if there’d been any indication that he was more than just a trusted soldier and right-hand. He recalled how he’d despised him when they’d first met—something about his irreverent confidence had reminded him too much of his own arrogance. Still, he’d given him a chance and trained him, paying more attention to the lad over any other in the Queen’s Army. The years under his tutelage soon shaped Finn into the best soldier in the realm; and fighting side by side, they’d been unbeatable. Although they’d always shared a strong connection, Alistair had never attempted to breach his mind, the act unacceptable amongst comrades.
Morbid curiosity got the better of him when he placed both hands on Finn’s shoulders. Upon contact, an electrifying sense of clarity engulfed Alistair’s senses. Finn’s thoughts and feelings were crystal clear, not the usual murky meanderings into someone else’s mind, but a patent and powerful connection, as if barriers didn’t exist between them. With one touch, what he’d always suspected but never entertained was confirmed: Not only was Finn a purer, stronger, nobler version of what he could only ever hope to be, he was also undoubtedly his son. A searing sense of obligation overcame him as the gravity of his realization hit home. Alistair released him as if burned, his mind reeling.
Finn gasped for air; no doubt having experienced his own jarring insights into the inner workings of Alistair’s mind. Evidently, he didn’t like what he saw. In the next instant, he was pummeling Alistair with wrathful, debilitating punches—blows that more than made up for in torque what they lacked in technique. Finn wasn’t conserving energy for a drawn-out fight. He was giving his all to end it right then and there.
Alistair tried to deflect Finn’s onslaught, even as he resisted the compelling urge to fight back. His son was not going to die by his hands. The tip of a knife pierced his jugular as Finn hovered above him, incensed.
“Would you kill your own father?” Alistair shouted as the knife dug deeper into his skin, drawing blood. “For what? A girl? I trained you. Hell, I practically raised you. I held your life in my hands countless times and defended it at every turn, stood back-to-back with you in battle and trusted my life to you, taken innumerable lives to save your own. Is this how you want this journey to end? With my blood on your hands and our legacy forgotten?”
The knife stilled as Finn hesitated, his expression unreadable.
“I didn’t know you were my son,” Alistair said. “If I had known—”
“If you had known, what?” Finn yelled, his anger resurfacing. “Would you have done things differently?”
“I would have tried to be your father.”
Finn let out a primal yelp as he grabbed Alistair by the collar and pounded his head fiercely against the stone floor underneath. Then he got up, muttered a curse, and kicked the knife away.
Every last inch of Liz’s body throbbed in pain−even her skin was raw and tender to the touch. In the grips of Iekika’s torture session, she’d almost wished for death. Again and again, the murderous sorceress had ordered her to claim Alistair as her king. Just say the words, she had cooed, with a promise to stop her suffering. Just admit that Queen Helena is an unworthy, opportunistic hussy, and I’ll let you rest. Liz was not accustomed to discomfort, let alone mind-shattering pain, but even at the precipice of her most abject horrors, she couldn’t make herself say the words. Eventually her tormentor grew tired and took leave, with a cheery promise to return shortly.
In the dark, dank confines of the dungeons, Liz sobbed as she lay crumpled on the floor, wishing to be anywhere else. Desperately, she attempted to heal herself, but her wounds were inflicted with witch magic, which her own healing powers were ineffectual against. The fabric of her beautiful blue dress had stuck to the bloody claw marks that lined her back and every tiny movement induced a fresh torture. Her throat was parched and sore from screaming, and her head felt like it’d been hit with an anvil. A hysterical laugh escaped her lips as she tried to imagine how she looked at that moment. Unapologetically vain and finicky with her surroundings, Liz was no doubt living her absolute worst nightmare. She quietly moaned in utter defeat, hoping to pass out and find some reprieve.
When she heard quiet footsteps approach, she frantically sought a way to knock herself out before Iekika could inflict a new round of suffering. A futile attempt to bang her head against the wall quickly proved her ineptitude for self-flagellation. Squeezing her eyes shut, she steeled herself and braced for the worst.
A hand clamped down on her mouth, muffling her screams. She opened her eyes expecting to see Iekika’s scarlet ones staring back at her. Instead, she found herself gazing into familiar warm gray eyes.
“Finn?” Liz croaked, almost disbelieving.
Finn gently pressed his mouth against her forehead, supporting her head with his hand. “You’re safe now. I’m here.”
Clutching at Finn for dear life, Liz finally allowed herself to hope. “I didn’t say what she wanted me to, Finn. I stayed strong,” she mumbled, close to hysterics.
Finn gently cradled her in his arms. “I know you did. I’m so sorry this happened to you. Let’s get you home.”
“Home?” Liz asked as a small smile found its way to her cracked, dry lips.
Finn gingerly picked her up, placing her arms around his neck. “Rest now, Liz. I’ve got you.”
It had all felt like a dream, seemingly too good to be true. Liz didn’t care. For the first time in what felt like forever, she finally felt safe. She let go of her fear and trusted Finn to see her safely home.
In the weeks since Liz was returned to the Seelie Court, nobody had seen or heard from Finn. A bedraggled and injured Liz awoke in Anna’s living room in the middle of the night, with no concrete memory of how she got there. All she knew was Finn rescued her from Iekika’s dungeon and brought her back. The queen herself, with a handful of her best soldiers, picked Liz up and saw to her safe return to the court.
Not to be a total child about it, but Clover was secretly miffed that Finn would go out of his way to rescue Liz, then promptly disappear again without even a word to her or his family. With his continued absence, assumptions were bandied about left and right. That he’d sided with Alistair and the Unseelie Court was a common refrain, punctuated with sanctimonious tongue-wagging at his swift betrayal. The handful of them who were closest to Finn kept the faith, Queen Helena chief among them. She’d let it be known that anybody who had accusations to fling at Finn better address them to her face, or else keep their opinions to themselves.
As the weeks dragged on, even Clover became beset with not only worry, but doubt. Horrid though Alistair was, he was still Finn’s father. Her own tumultuous relationship with her dad proved that blood was thicker than water. No matter what happened in the past, he was still her father. Of course, Nick wasn’t a murderous sociopath, and Alistair most certainly was.
The silver lining amidst all the uncertainty was having her best friend by her side. Andie had adjusted superbly to life in Faerie, making fast friends with Button and Mirabella and settling into Anna’s house with ease. The budding romance with Garrett no doubt contributed to her seamless transition into all things supernatural. To the surprise of many, when Garrett wasn’t aiding in the war effort or disappearing into the woods for days, he was spending an inordinate bulk of his time with Andie. Although Clover was delighted that he and Andie were getting along, she couldn’t help but worry. Garrett was fiercely independent and a self-professed nomad. There was no way of knowing when he’d leave again. On the other hand, at least Garrett was there now, while her supposed boyfriend was still nowhere to be found.
Anna’s house had quickly become the group’s clubhouse and headquarters of sorts. Scobert, Garrett, and Kean would routinely drop by, updating them on the strengthening of the Queen’s Army and the planned attacks on the Unseelie Court. At an attempt at normalcy, they’d all sit down to meals or share a few bottles of wine in the cozy living room. Mostly, everyone was just hoping to hear from Finn, but despite their combined hopes, the magical compass remained quiet and still.
Today, Garrett and Kean had come bearing gifts—a couple of bottles of good mead and four pheasants care of Garrett’s unrivaled hunting skills. As Anna and Cordelia prepped the fowl for dinner, Clover, Button, Mirabella, Andie, Kean, and Garrett hung out in the kitchen doing shots of mead. Despite the peculiar composition of their small group, they’d managed an easy camaraderie: faeries, humans, and half-breeds alike−a veritable United Nations of the supernatural world.
“Anna, your turn,” Garrett proclaimed as he refilled a glass.
Anna graciously reached for the glass and downed the drink, shoving the glass back on the table with a challenging smile on her face. “Clover, you’re up.”
Kean refilled the cup and handed it to Clover. As she chuckled and took the mead, she and Anna locked gazes, both knowing participants in a charade. Since Finn’s disappearance, neither of them had been able to don a genuine smile on their faces.
The cup got passed around—to Button, who pinched her nose, made a face, and swallowed the mead like it was poison, to Mirabella, who took her shot, rapped the cup on the table and swiftly demanded another one.
Garrett poured himself a drink and downed it. Draping his arm over Andie’s shoulder, he deftly snaked his way to the hollow of her neck and inhaled. “Gods, you smell delectable.”
“You’re in a good mood,” Andie shot back, clearly attempting nonchalance.
“Garrett is psyched for tomorrow’s mission,” Kean explained.
“You bet your ass I am. We’re going to kill Vincent,” Garrett said plainly.
Clover went cold. Vincent was the Unseelie soldier who’d shot an arrow at Finn and slapped her so hard across the face, her ears rang for days. She’d also bitten him, kneed him in the groin, and during the battle with the Unseelies, Nick had beaten him to a bloody pulp. There was history with Vincent.
“We’ve received intelligence that he’s near the Unseelie border with a handful of soldiers, building an outpost,” Kean said. “Garrett and I are paying them a little visit.”
“Just the two of you?” Clover asked, worried.
“A bigger contingent will arouse attention,” Kean said. “We’ll be fine. It should be a walk in the park.”
A silence descended upon Anna’s kitchen, even the incessant flapping of Cordelia’s tiny wings quieting as she settled on an empty stool. Despite their efforts at normalcy, the reality was they were at war and the danger was real. There were no guarantees they’d all make it out alive.
“Do be careful,” Anna finally said, somber.
“Give me some credit here,” Garrett scoffed. “They won’t know what hit them.”