Garrett and Kean trekked through the woods in silence, slowly and stealthily making their way to the Unseelie outpost. Though he hated to admit it, Garrett was finding himself most impressed with the rookie soldier’s skills. Not only was he cautious and strategic, but he was also a highly accomplished fighter. It was no wonder Queen Helena favored the lad. Only very slightly annoying, he wasn’t horrible company either. The only thing that bothered Garrett—what really got his goat—was the fact that Kean obviously still had the hots for Clover.
“You know you don’t stand a chance, right?” Garrett asked.
“Excuse me?”
Garrett shrugged. “Fact of the matter is, you’re no Finn. The odds aren’t exactly stacked in your favor. I’d fold now before you make a damn fool of yourself.”
Kean laughed. “Thanks, man. Good to know.”
“Look, I get it. She’s a cutie, but Finn asked me to look out for her. If you make a move, I’ll have to kill you. It’ll be fun and all, but good soldiers are hard to come by.”
“I’m flattered,” Kean scoffed. “The truth is, I like being around her. I don’t think I’m breaking any rules by doing so. Finn’s not exactly here to say otherwise.”
“Watch yourself, soldier,” Garrett warned.
“What about you?” Kean asked.
“What about me?”
“You and the lackey. What’s the story there?”
“The story there is mind your own goddamn business. Got that?”
Kean laughed heartily. “Sir, yes, sir.”
Suddenly Garrett stilled, put a finger to his lips, and signaled for Kean to get down. From roughly half a mile northwest of them, he tracked the scents and movements of about six Fae. He kept low to the ground and took out a knife as he started crawling in that direction. Kean followed closely behind.
As they approached surreptitiously, a familiar yet coveted sensation filled Garrett’s senses. As his heart ferociously pumped blood throughout his body, his vision became even clearer and his hearing keener. It was as if his whole being came alive and existed only for one thing—the kill. Their targets now merely a few yards away, Garrett could pinpoint their exact locations even with his eyes closed. He knew their breaths and beating hearts, recognizing by instinct exactly where to strike to inflict the most harm. Already a well-oiled killing machine; and he hadn’t even changed yet. It hardly seemed fair.
Garrett and Kean crouched by the outpost’s perimeter, surveying the scene. The Unseelies were building a rudimentary watchtower and not doing a very good job at it. Four of them milled around the foot of the lookout, passing around a small flask.
“Four targets?” Kean asked in a whisper.
Garrett shook his hand and pointed to a wooden shanty west of the tower and lifted two fingers. Seeing Vincent wasn’t among the four builders, he surmised their main target was in the shanty.
“You take the two in the shed, I’ll take the rest,” Garrett mouthed.
Kean nodded, and they split up. Garrett headed toward the tower and Kean in the opposite direction. When he was close enough to his prey that he could count the stubbles on their sweaty faces, Garrett emerged from the cover of the forest to face them head on.
Four pairs of Unseelie eyes focused on him as he made his entrance. “Gentlemen,” he said in greeting.
Before the one closest to him could reach for his knife, Garrett dove as if stealing second base and snapped his neck in one quick motion. The remaining Unseelies attacked at once, showering Garrett with a threesome of soon-to-be dead bodies. In the scrimmage, he sought the closest appendage and with a strategic twist, shattered bone. The guy with the flailing arm soon became an easy target. With a targeted blow to the back of his neck, the second Unseelie went down with a thud. Two more, Garrett thought with eager anticipation.
As he tried to decide which one to kill first, a familiar scent wafted through the air, momentarily breaking his concentration. Even as he tracked and identified its source, his knife unerringly found the heart of his third target. He threw a hook to the fourth guy’s jaw, killing him instantly. He turned around and braced himself for what he knew he was about to see.
Finn walked toward him, slowly raising both hands in the air, Vincent trailing behind him looking absurd with his blue mohawk and acid-washed jeans. Kean stood a distance away, looking like he’d seen a ghost—a ghost he wanted to tear apart limb from limb.
“Stop, Garrett. Let’s talk,” Finn said.
Vincent stood beside him with a smug look on his face.
An unfamiliar rage overtook Garrett as he watched Finn stand alongside one of their worst enemies. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“We offer a truce. I don’t want to fight, but I will if I have to,” Finn said.
“We?” Garrett yelled. “You and that dipwad are now a we?”
Finn’s expression was pleading, yet resolute.
Garrett shimmered with rage and feared what was about to happen next. He knew his unsuppressed warring emotions would trigger him to change. He also knew that if he did, he was going to kill his best friend.
Kean had seen his fair share of gruesome or troubling sights, but never in his life had he witnessed something quite so frightening and bizarre. Garrett was an angel of death, seething with rage as he glimmered in a surge of power and erupted in the next moment into a massive leopard’s body. The fearsome cat charged with feral precision, barreling its claws down on its prey with frightening intensity. Vincent lay on the dirt drenched in his own blood, a deep gory gash stretching from his brow to his bellybutton.
Garrett, or the leopard who used to be Garrett, turned away, pranced about, and primed for another attack. Before the cat pounced anew, Finn threw himself in the leopard’s path, halting the attack. A deafening roar filled the forest and Kean instinctively reached for his knife. With a deadly animal in such close proximity, one’s survival instincts were bound to kick in. If it weren’t for his own grisly curiosity over the scene unfolding before him, Kean would have definitely taken cover.
Finn was now on the ground with his hands in the air in what looked to be a misguided attempt to mollify the bloodthirsty jungle cat. Garrett showed no signs of letting up. In one swift, graceful movement, he pounced and zeroed in on Finn’s neck, going for the obvious kill. Finn’s attempts to push the leopard away proved futile. The animal was just too ferocious.
Just when Kean braced himself to witness Garrett rip Finn’s throat out, the cat gave another loud roar, then a less menacing sound, close to a whimper. Its large head loomed over Finn’s, its fangs sharp and deadly. The cat placed two front paws on Finn’s chest and bore down hard, almost the feline equivalent of a shove. Another whimper. Then it turned its sights on Kean and jerked its head to the left, as if to say, let’s go. The leopard ran off into the woods, with Kean fast on its heels.
Not for lack of trying, but Kean simply could not keep up with the leopard. Focusing on the yellowish blur that blazed through the trees, he ran until his legs felt as if they might fall off. After several miles in hot pursuit, a disturbing thought flittered into Kean’s head. Shouldn’t he be running away from the leopard instead of sprinting toward it? As he considered his alternatives, he lost track of the cat and slowed his pace.
“Garrett!” Kean shouted as he jogged through the woods. “Where are you, man? Garrett!” Keeping on the path he thought the leopard ran toward, he continued his search.
From a spot unseen in a dense copse ahead came a voice. “Seriously? Could you be more conspicuous? Sound a foghorn while you’re at it. I don’t think all the woodland creatures got the memo.”
Kean breathed a sigh of relief. Lounging on the forest floor with his head against a tall oak was Garrett in full birthday suite regalia.
“What the hell just happened?” Kean asked, breathless.
Garrett shook his head, the same feral look still lingering in his eyes. “Don’t breathe a word to anybody until I’ve briefed the queen. Do you understand?”
Kean understood full well. A betrayal from Finn Ryan was a horrible blow to the Seelie Army, to the realm, and to Queen Helena herself. This was not news to be thrown around lightly.
Kean nodded. “Understood.”
When Garrett and Kean delivered their report to the queen, for the life of him, Scobert could not believe it to be true. If he hadn’t trusted both lads with his very life, he would have easily dismissed the news as hearsay, trickery, or downright black magic. Perhaps it wasn’t Finn at all, but a changeling in disguise, he’d countered. Garrett, on the other hand, was quite certain it was him, and there was no questioning the pooka when it came to tracking.
Perhaps Finn was merely infiltrating the Unseelie Court and pretending to have switched alliances, the queen proffered. It was a likely scenario they’d all wished were true, but if it were the case, Finn would have made contact and briefed them of his plan. Long into the night, the four of them argued stances and pursued possible scenarios. In the end, there was one obvious possibility neither one dared broach—that Finn had chosen his own flesh and blood over his loyalty to the Seelie Court. While the premise remained unspoken, it had been on everybody’s mind.
Before their meeting broke, Garrett thanked the queen for her hospitality, promised his eternal loyalty, but offered his farewells. A war against Finn was not a war he’d come prepared to fight. Helena urged him to stay on, beseeching now more than ever. She’d need dependable soldiers at her side. It was a plea no true Seelie soldier could refuse. Though his heart wasn’t quite in it, the pooka agreed to stay for his queen.
Several days had passed since and Scobert’s heart wasn’t in anything, it seemed. With the prospect of potentially battling Finn looming heavily on his mind, everything had lost its luster. Even the joy of his life, his daughter, couldn’t get him out of his funk.
Mirabella passed him a flask as they sat side by side watching the sun set from the gardens of the Seelie Court. “Are you going to be okay?”
Scobert shrugged and realized he didn’t know the answer. Somehow, he was convinced that if he could just talk to the lad, everything would be explained—that the impending war with the Unseelies did not have to entail potentially killing his cousin. He took a long swig of whiskey, then passed the flask back to his daughter. “I hope so,” he said.
Mirabella took a sip and stared out at the horizon, seemingly deep in thought. “Maybe he has his reasons,” she said, her voice low. “Perhaps he’s doing this not out of allegiance, but to protect someone he loves. Possibly he’s sacrificing himself to save someone else.”
“Perhaps,” Scobert conceded, as his thoughts reached out to Finn. Then he peered at Mirabella. “What do you know of sacrifice?”
His usually fiery daughter remained quiet for a time, as if a light inside of her was slowly extinguishing.
“What’s the matter, Bella?” Scobert asked.
Mirabella smiled softly. “You’re the only one who’s ever called me Bella.”
Scobert laughed heartily, recalling a memory. “When you were just a wee babe, I used to say ‘Ciao, Bella’ whenever I left your side.” The fake Italian accent he’d just affected made him snigger even more—the first time he’d laughed in days.
Mirabella threw her head back and giggled uninhibitedly. “I wish I’d been old enough to remember that.”
“I wish I didn’t lose you so soon,” Scobert said, growing somber. “I’m so happy to have you back in my life. You know you can talk to me, right? If you need help with anything at all; if something is bothering you, you can come to me.”
“I know,” Mirabella said as she passed the flask back to Scobert.
Taking another sip, he silently wished he were a better father—the kind of father who knew how to talk to his daughter. Instead, he sat there without saying another word, even though deep inside he sensed Mirabella had something on her mind. At that moment, he would have given his right thumb for a manual on sensible parenthood. He was quite certain getting drunk while avoiding meaningful conversation would not be in there.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“How are things with Mom?”
Scobert blew out an uneasy breath, having no real desire to discuss his love life with his daughter. “Relationships are complicated. I care for your mother a lot, but I would be lying if I told you things haven’t changed. We’re not the same couple we used to be, but we try every day to get to know each other again, to treasure each other like we used to.”
The setting sun cast an auburn shade over their shared space and Mirabella was an angel sitting next to him in the fading light. When she knitted her brows and wiped a tear from her eye, Scobert swore he heard his own heart break in two. Out of sheer instinct, he took his daughter in his arms, stroking her gently as her sobs flowed more freely. Completely out of his element, all he could think of was taking whatever pain she was suffering and make it his own.
When her tears subsided, Mirabella straightened and looked Scobert in the eye, a trace of her usual fierceness reclaimed. “If I ever disappoint you, just remember I love you.”
Scobert found it impossible to envision a scenario wherein his daughter would be a disappointment. “Let’s make two things absolutely clear, young lady. One: you will never disappoint me, two: I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
Mirabella rested her head on his shoulder. As twilight enveloped father and daughter and another tumultuous day neared its end, a thought arose. Perhaps he had it in him to be a good father, after all.
Fall Valley had been Clover and Finn’s special place. A magical spot in the faerie realm, every morning when the sun rose, the colors in the valley changed from summer greens to radiant fall hues in the blink of an eye. From the leaves in the trees to the grass on the ground, every surface transformed.
They’d had their first date there. It was where Finn first told Clover he loved her. Ever since she’d found out Finn was with the Unseelies, Clover had been in a sort of limbo, unable to move forward and incapable of accomplishing anything in the present. It wasn’t just the fact that she’d lost her boyfriend that plagued her, it was the heart-wrenching doubt that perhaps she never really knew him at all.
Despite all her misgivings, a part of her still had faith. Surely, she hadn’t been wrong to trust him. To remind herself of what she’d seen in him—the reasons she’d fallen in love with him—she decided to go to the one place that to her, was all about Finn.
The rising sun blanketed the field in warmth and light, magical in its ability to prompt the changing of seasons. As verdant plains transformed to vibrant oranges, pinks, and reds, Clover traipsed down the valley with a trace of hope in her heart. If the rising and setting of the sun could evoke such a dramatic change in any one place or time, then perhaps the new day might also evoke a change in Finn’s heart.
She sat on the coral grass and lifted her face to the sun, willing Finn to reach out to her, to explain himself, or at the very least, to say goodbye. The harder she tried to feel closer to him, the farther away he seemed. Don’t let go, Clover pleaded in her mind. Whether her plea was to Finn or to herself, she wasn’t certain. Either way, holding on was all they had left.
Clover made her way back to Anna’s and was surprised to find Button and Mirabella waiting for her at the door. She didn’t expect to see them so early in the morning.
“What’s going on?” Clover asked.
“We’re on a mission,” Button whispered, all cloak and dagger. “Destination: Brooklyn.” She motioned for both girls to follow her into a nearby thicket of trees.
Clover obliged, but suspected Button may have lost her mind. When they were far enough away from Anna’s door, she asked, “Are you crazy? We can’t go to Earth right now.”
“Button found an old relative,” Mirabella explained. “Like literally, she’s in her nineties. She thought all her family had died, but we did some digging and found out her second cousin on her father’s side, Constance, is alive and living in Brighton Beach.”
“That’s awesome news,” Clover gushed and meant it, but although she knew how important this was to Button, she couldn’t get on board with their plan. “It’s just too dangerous right now. I think we should wait.”
“Willie has agreed to help us,” Button replied, wide-eyed and giddy.
Willie was one of the realm’s resident taxi drivers, who had the magical ability to teleport to and from all bridges and tunnels anywhere in the world in the blink of an eye. Clover worried at her lower lip and thought things through. Having Willie sure would help.
“There’s an abandoned bridge not too far from the portal. We can be in Brooklyn in less than five minutes. What possible harm could come to us in that time? We’ll be back before anybody even realizes we left. C’mon, Clover. I need this.”
Though her heart went out to Button, her gut tightened into a ball. “I just don’t know—”
“Since you and Mirabella are half-Fae, you can safely get me and Andie back through the portal.”
When Mirabella nodded encouragingly, Clover felt ganged up on. “Clearly you two have already worked out the logistics—without consulting me. I see you’ve included Andie, too.”
Button rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “As if she’d let us leave without her.”
“Plus, we need you guys. Button hasn’t been in Brooklyn in ages, and I’ve never been in a big city. We’d be totally lost,” Mirabella entreated.
“We’d have to be really quick about it,” Clover said, her resolve crumbling. “No lengthy reminiscences while poring over old albums. In and out.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Button exclaimed, practically bouncing from excitement.
“All right,” Clover said, completely caving in. “I’ll wake Andie up and feed Anna a story about where we’ll be all morning. Let’s meet by the Enchanted Pond in an hour.”
Three-quarters of an hour later, Clover and Andie were making their way through the wooded path that led to Market Square, a short trek away from the Enchanted Pond.
“Hurry,” Clover said. “I want to get this over with.”
“I’m surprised you even agreed,” Andie said, still slow-moving and groggy from sleep. “I mean, I’m all for an adventure, but even I’m a little iffy about this ill-conceived plan. Shouldn’t we at least tell someone where we’re going? Just in case?”
“Like who, Garrett?” Clover blurted out, quickly regretting it. Though she’d never meant it to, it made her sound petty and accusatory. Just because she’d lost Finn, it didn’t mean everybody else had to be miserable, too.
Andie’s face fell. “I haven’t seen him in days. He hasn’t been taking the whole Finn thing well.”
By Finn thing, Andie meant the horrible betrayal that had almost led Garrett to rip his dearest friend to shreds. “I’m sorry,” Clover said. “I didn’t mean to—I just want to be part of something good, you know? This thing for Button, I think we all need this right now.”
“I hear you,” Andie said. “We could all use a little lift.”
The path in the woods forked to the right onto Market Square. Early in the morning, the market was humming with activity—bakeries hawking their first batch of goodies, local florists unloading carts of fresh flowers, and pubs serving up breakfast by the trays-full. If they didn’t have somewhere to be, Clover would have loved spending a leisurely morning sampling pastries and window-shopping.
Andie tugged at her shirt and gestured to the right. She hadn’t even noticed Kean walking toward them holding a brown paper bag, a big smile on his face.
“Hey,” Clover said. “What are you doing here so early?”
Kean held up a steaming brown bag that smelled mouth-watering. “I have a serious pasty problem. I like to get my stash first thing.”
“What’s a pasty?” Andie asked.
“A handheld meat pie,” Kean explained. He opened up the bag. “Please, help yourselves. It’ll change your lives.”
Without hesitation, Andie reached into the bag, pulled out a hot pasty and took a big bite. “Ohmmgod,” she said, her mouth bursting, “yougadda habwan, Clober.”
She couldn’t help but laugh as she picked a pasty and tried it. It was absolutely delicious. “Mmm,” was all she could say.
Kean beamed, looking as relaxed as Clover had ever seen him. “Take the whole bag,” he said as he patted his exceptionally flat belly. “I should really watch what I eat.”
Andie grabbed the paper bag. “Yeah, you really should. Let me take these off your hands.”
Clover stifled her laughter. “We really should get going.”
“Where are you off to?” Kean asked.
“We’re meeting the girls—for breakfast.”
“Oh,” Kean said. “Well, I hope I didn’t ruin your appetites. I’ll let you go, then. Take care of yourself,” he said, looking only at Clover.
Clover nodded, and they said their goodbyes. When they were out of earshot, Andie grabbed her by the shoulders. “You should have told Kean where we were going.”
“No. He wouldn’t have let us go.”
Andie huffed. “In case you haven’t noticed, that faerie boy is totally into you. He would have let you do anything you wanted; not a bad guy to have around.”
Clover’s eyes widened.
“I’m not saying as a replacement to Finn, but don’t close yourself off to possibilities. There’s nothing wrong with making friends. He’s not exactly hard on the eyes either, and he’s a total gentleman. You’re eighteen. Be eighteen.”
“Fine,” Clover conceded, “but right now, we’re running late. Let’s get to the pond. I can be eighteen some other time.”
Andie mused that the most exciting part of using the portal the first time was what had happened right before it—kissing Garrett. Her second passage through the portal in the Enchanted Pond was not quite as exhilarating. One moment they were all jumping into the fake pond, and in the next instant they were emerging from the old well on Station Island.
Willie, the taxi driver, met them at the island and happily levitated them over the lake two at a clip, fancying himself quite the ladies’ man. Clover had attempted to levitate on her own but gave up on the pursuit after a few botched tries. While she would have loved to see her friend fly, it seemed levitating was not a skill Clover had yet mastered. After a short trek, they found their ride on an old, abandoned bridge and Andie couldn’t wait to get on the magical cab again. She’d been in her fair share of taxis, but Willie’s was out-of-this-world spectacular. Mirabella’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets admiring its richly upholstered interiors and fully stocked bar, while Button shrieked with delight as the magical mahogany table at its center started doling out croissants and crumpets. For a few precious moments, they were just girlfriends out on the town being silly and Andie didn’t want it to end, but soon enough they’d arrived at their destination.
Button’s cousin lived in an old detached house on a quiet block. A bunch of retro-looking folding lawn chairs littered the semi-dilapidated front porch, looking like nobody’d used them in ages. The day’s mail was inserted through a gaping hole in the screen door and a soft jazz melody drifted from inside. As Button gathered the nerve to ring the doorbell, Andie, Clover, and Mirabella stood behind her, ready to offer up any kind of support for what was sure to be an emotional reunion. When she finally rang the bell, they all held their breaths in anticipation.
Nothing.
“Maybe she didn’t hear it,” Andie offered. “She is in her nineties and the radio is on.”
“You’re right,” Button agreed. She knocked three times, but when still nobody answered, she tried the door and it creaked open. “Should we go in?”
“Might as well,” said Mirabella. Andie and Clover both nodded in agreement. This was Button’s party; they were just in it for the ride.
Button stepped in tentatively. “Hello. Anybody home?”
The inside of Constance’s house was nowhere near as shabby as the front porch. It was one of those well-preserved old-fashioned homes that made you feel like you were walking into a staged exhibit at a museum—old record player, wooden rocking chair, richly upholstered chairs, and thick curtains held up together with tasseled golden rope. The smell of mothballs was almost as pervading as the scent of furniture polish.
“Hello?” Button called again as they all sort of stood around by the foyer.
A sound like a kitchen door swinging open alerted them of somebody’s presence, and they all turned their heads toward the sound. Expecting to see an elderly woman emerge, Andie was flabbergasted at the sight that greeted them instead. A blond man—an exceptionally handsome blond man—in a three-piece-suit was standing there smiling at them. If she’d been surprised to see that, then what happened next totally knocked her socks off. Without hesitation, Clover extended her right arm like Spidey casting a web and a torrent of water gushed forth from her fingertips, knocking the guy off his feet.
“What the hell?” Andie screamed.
The guy was soaked to the bone but was soon back on his feet, looking pretty incensed. “I see my wife’s powers have grown,” he said.
In response, a glass candelabra flew from a nearby table and struck him hard on the head, making Andie’s jaw drop. She’d known Clover had powers but seeing her in action was without a doubt impressive.
“Enough!” the man commanded.
“Where’s Finn?” Clover asked.
“Don’t concern yourself with my son,” the man replied.
“What do you want, Alistair?” Clover screamed.
“You,” he said, then disappeared.
A moment later, he was standing behind Clover with a sharp knife pointed at her throat.
“Let her go!” yelled Mirabella.
Alistair sneered. “Drop the charade, Mirabella. It’s time for your true alliances to be known. Tell them how you helped lure them here, lied to them, pretended to be their friend, so I could get Clover back.”
A fly could’ve happily flown right into Andie’s gaping mouth and taken residence there. The growing list of surprising twists and turns had left her momentarily catatonic it seemed.
“Is that true?” Clover asked Mirabella, hurt and anger in her eyes.
Tears welled up in Mirabella’s eyes, but she didn’t say a word. Instead, she focused her attention on the tall coat rack behind Alistair. Suddenly the wrought-iron piece of furniture shook itself, like a person might from the cold. The scarves and jackets hanging on it dropped to the floor. In the next fluid motion, like a fencer delivering a killing blow, it pierced one of its arms into Alistair’s side. Then it took its other arm, skewered him from the left, and pulled both arms out at the same time.
Alistair yelled in pain and dropped to the ground, two wounds on either side of him gushing blood.
“Run!” Mirabella pleaded with Clover. “I can take your place. Just go, please.”
Even as he crouched over, attempting to heal himself, Alistair made a grab for Clover as she stepped away in the nick of time. “You stupid little whore. I’ll make you pay for this!” he screamed. Andie wasn’t sure whether his threat was directed to Clover or Mirabella.
The animated coat rack motioned like it was teeing off, then swung hard, hitting Alistair across the face with one of its many arms brought to life. With Alistair momentarily incapacitated, Mirabella approached Clover.
“I hope you’ll someday find it in your heart to forgive me. Tell my father the woman he once loved is gone. He should let Therese go.” Mirabella’s eyes darted to Alistair, who was struggling to get up. “There’s not much time. Go!”
Clover hesitated, but eventually nodded. She called to Andie, “Where’s Button?”
Andie looked around for Button, but in all the excitement, she’d lost track of her.
“I’m out here,” she heard her call out.
They ran out to the front porch toward the sound of Button’s voice.
Of all the astonishing things Andie had seen that day, nothing could have prepared her for the sight that greeted her then. An old woman, wrinkled and gray, stood before them, wearing the same white tunic Button was wearing that morning. Once again, Andie’s jaw dropped right to the floor.
“Button?” Clover asked, disbelieving.
The old lady nodded. “I got old.”