Chapter Three

 

 

 

Merritt panicked. He crawled around the side of the house, his heart thundering so loudly he was certain both Gremma and Fortunata would hear him. He hid underneath the fronds of a dense fern, catching snatches of their conversation. He didn’t know what to think as Fortunata railed about the dead horse.

“How am I supposed to get back to the palace now? Walk?” she screeched. His sister’s long, curly blonde hair cascaded down her back. For two people who were twins, she and Merritt couldn’t have been more different. Though her face was beautiful, her black heart constantly surprised him. And yet, she was capable of goodness and that was why he’d never given up on her.

“I don’t know, my lady. Look at this poor creature’s face. He died an agonizing death.”

“So what? I can’t walk all the way back.”

Typical Fortunata. Thinks of nothing but herself.

“My lady, the horse appears poisoned.” Gremma sounded petrified.

“Well, he ate the wrong grass. Stupid animal.”

“But there is nothing here that would ever harm an animal. I would never—”

“You do not have dominion over this kingdom. I do.” Fortunata’s imperious tone had Merritt rolling his eyes. He was angry now. It was obvious that his trusted Elvin was a snake in elf’s clothing.

He tried to kill me. I can never go back to the palace. I’ve been so stupid. I let my grief overpower me and I let her use my powers. Without them, she is nothing. She needs me, and I need her. Damn it. I haven’t exercised my powers in so long because I believed Denny was safe. But he isn’t. She says he’s marked for death.

A light rain fell, and he huddled under the fern’s massive leaves. Fortunata and Gremma continued their strange discussion. It was harder to hear in the rain, but the good thing was it also disguised his sharp breathing and any slight noise he might make. The two women walked toward the forest. He held his breath as he caught a glimpse of Fortunata’s swishing, burgundy-colored gown. Gremma seemed dressed in rags.

Why does such a powerful witch dress like that? And why doesn’t she do something about her hands and hair?

He crawled to the side of the house once more and listened. No sound of female voices. He stood and made his way to the front door, but when he turned the handle, it wouldn’t open. How frustrating. He peered through the open windows, pushing aside the lace fabric over the biggest one on the other side of the house. He was astonished to see an altar above the fireplace. Upon it was a gold chain Merritt recognized as his own. Beside it was a black candle smeared with red liquid. Blood. Beside it was a pair of shoes, also his own. Filled with wide beeswax candles that had almost burned down, covering the soft leather moccasins with wax.

My God. She’s put a spell on me. Once that wax burns down, she’ll have complete control of me.

How had he not realized earlier that his sister was working against him? She must have figured out that Elvin was following her. Perhaps he had been under her sway all the time. Had he knowingly given Merritt the poisoned apple? His thoughts swirled and he panicked as he gazed at the other objects on the altar.

Why is Fortunata trying to kill me? If she destroys me, she loses half her magic.

He no longer cared if she or Gremma returned. He climbed through the window into the cottage and moved toward the altar. Tiny needles dug into his feet and ankles. He glanced down at the writhing mass of black snakes, conjured by magic. He’d never been so angry in his life.

“Let go of me,” he muttered and flicked his hand at them.

The snakes disappeared. A small ginger cat stared at him fearfully from a hole in the wall. Obviously the poor creature had been too afraid to come out with the snakes on the floor.

My sister and cousin were expecting me. He pushed back his sleeves and moved to the altar. No, perhaps not. Gremma is working spells on many people. He could see that now. Little piles of hair, jewels, clothing. It was all frightening and horrible. He grabbed what he could, including a lock of black hair he was certain belonged to Denny, and stuffed everything in his pockets. The black candle was definitely smeared in blood. He could tell by the smell.

But whose?

He grabbed that too, and made for the window once again, but somebody was at the door. The handle turned and it creaked open.

My God. Too late.

 

* * * *

 

Denny joined the others on the shore. It was so hot his clothes dried pretty fast, but the seawater smelled foul.

“Polluted waters,” a man who stood beside Denny told him. “Don’t judge this book by its cover. The palace and court look like something out of a fairytale but nobody here seems to have heard of hygiene.”

Denny didn’t have time to respond. A man with massive black wings flapping approached him. “Pirate?”

“Um, yeah.”

The man gazed at Denny’s coat. “No use hiding those wings here. How adept are you with them?”

“Not adept at all.”

The man looked surprised. “You haven’t learned how to use them?”

“No. They hurt.”

“That’s because you don’t work with them.” The black-winged man gave him a disapproving look. “Not that you could fly away from here anyway.”

Denny wanted to shrug but his whole body ached. Adrenaline had surged and spent itself in his body. He wished he were back in his cabin dreaming. Captain Rigby would take it over. Ha ha! Hope he likes dirty sheets. Gulp. Wonder if he’ll find my stash of gold?

“Did they tell you what charges you face?” The black-winged man glanced up at Denny from a large notebook in his hand.

“No, they didn’t.”

“Did they say anything?”

“They said I was on trial for my life.”

“Ah.” The man nodded, a knowing look on his face. “That’s a capital punishment case. Take the line over here to the right.”

Denny shuffled away and the black-winged man shouted at him, “Quickly. You think you have all day?”

“I’m doing my best. My feet are chained.”

“Why did they do that?”

“They said the court demanded it.”

“Not usually. Well, get a move on. Some of us have homes to get to before dark.”

Denny shuffled on, each step making his legs and ankles twinge in pain. He almost fell, and when he steadied himself, blood trickled down his left wrist.

Oh, spiffing! This is exactly what I wanted to do today. Get beaten up, shackled, and go on trial for a capital crime!

“Plunder and pillage?” a man with green wings asked him.

“Pillage before plunder,” Denny responded.

The man quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry. I’m a pirate. I can’t help wanting things in order.” He cringed at the man’s fierce expression.

“So you admit to piracy.”

“Well, yeah. Of course.” Not much point in denying it.

“Do you have use of your wings?”

“No.”

“That’s what they all say. Take off your coat.”

“I can’t.”

“They all say that, too.” The green-winged head case seemed aware only then that Denny was bound by a rusted metal collar, chains and arm and leg restraints. “Oh.” He looked around. “Where is his public defender?”

“Er, she’s washing dishes,” came back a tiny woman’s voice.

Denny looked down to see a dainty fairy fluttering around his feet. Denny felt more depressed than ever. Only he could have a public defender who also washed dishes for a living. He tried to act nonchalant but all of a sudden he had a desperate urge to pee. He understood now why the other prisoner had mentioned the island’s poor hygiene. Men in chains were making their way down to the shoreline and peeing right into the water. Lovely.

Denny’s spirits lifted a little when Ebba approached him. She’d changed into a red and white floral dress. Denny couldn’t believe it. He’d seen men dressed as women before but she looked worse than any of them. She was a man. He was certain of it. She also wore a hat covered in what looked like fresh strawberries. And she was barefoot. Ebba spotted Denny, smiled and gave him a wave.

“Howdy do,” she said to Denny as though they were meeting at some barn dance and not for his date with bloody destiny.

“Yeah. Howdy,” he griped.

“Unshackle him,” the green-winged man said.

“Yes, sir.” Ebba fumbled in her pocket for a set of keys. Once she’d produced it, she worked the lock on his collar. Her hands were shaking.

“You’re my public defender?” he asked.

Her hands stopped moving. “Yes.” She turned the key again.

The lock was rusty but it eventually gave way and the collar loosened around his neck. The release of pressure put him in a better mood within seconds. As the rest of his restraints fell away, Denny believed for one small moment that he could escape all of this.

But where would I go? How do I get away?

Ebba removed his coat and everyone stared as his slightly bent, gossamer fairy wings came into view.

“Okay, show me what you can do.” The green-winged man poked at his chest. Now that Denny no longer wore the cloak, his wings pained him more than ever. He let out a gasp.

“What’s the matter with you?” Ebba asked.

“They hurt. No. Hurt’s not enough. They’re bloody agony.” Tears sparked in Denny’s eyes.

Both Ebba and the green-winged man stared at him, then at each other.

“You’ve got a crybaby for a client,” the green-winged man said. “He’s full of it.” He stared at Denny. “Make them flap or I’ll do it for you.”

“I don’t know how,” Denny whined. Boy, he was sure doing a lot of that lately.

“Try.”

“How do I do it? Do I speak to them? Do I move my shoulders or something?” Denny’s desperate gaze flicked from side to side.

“You just do it.” The green-winged man reached over and grabbed one of the wings. Denny’s ear-piercing shrieks made several people drop to the ground, ducking for cover, as though somebody was shooting indiscriminately in the crowd.

“Blimey!” the green-winged man said. “You weren’t kidding. Your wings are stuck!”

Denny had dropped to his knees and panted in pain. Tears streaked down his face. “Thank you. This happened to me five months ago and I’ve had nobody to talk to. They hurt every day.”

The green-winged man moved behind Denny and knelt, studying the wings a little closer. He poked at the feathers and slid his hand underneath Denny’s slitted shirt. He touched a particularly tender spot on Denny’s right shoulder blade. It hurt, but Denny found that the man’s prodding sent a mixture of pleasure and pain down his back, so he just breathed through the worst moments. “This one’s atrophied a bit. It’s clear you haven’t used them, which contravenes our rules for judgment here. You might have to be sent to a different court.”

A harsh gasp shot out throughout the assembled throng. Denny looked up to see Ebba’s horrified expression. She shook her head at him then uttered an emphatic, “No. He’s still one of us. He still counts. He was cursed and it’s clear that something went wrong. Can you imagine how much pain he’s been in?”

The green-winged man didn’t respond.

“She said she’d turned the fairy into a fairy,” Denny said, desperation pouring from his very soul.

A hushed silence fell over them all.

“Who did this to you?” The green-winged man got to his feet once more.

Denny fought the urge to purge all over the ground. He gulped in air and was about to mutter her name but caught Ebba’s slight shake of her head. “I don’t know her name.”

The green-winged man looked suspicious. “So this woman cursed you for no good reason?”

“I rejected her.” Denny didn’t look at Ebba in case she was shaking her head again.

“She wanted you for a lover?” The green-winged man looked surprised.

“I’m an attractive man, or I was.” Denny hung his head. He had mad urges to barf and cry. Never in his life had he felt so helpless or ashamed. Not since he’d been a kid.

“Whatever helps you sleep nights,” Ebba murmured. Now why did she keep saying that to him? First it was his belief that his porridge had fruit in it. Now it was his looks.

What the hell did that bitch Fortunata do to me? His hands flew to his face. He was hairier than he remembered but everything else seemed to be the same. No hooked nose or hair-sprouting moles from what he could tell.

For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to think about Prince Merritt and Princess Fortunata. How could two siblings be so very different? One so good and loving, the other so diabolical? It struck him for the first time that they were so much like Denny and his sister, Polly, that it was almost frightening.

“Get up,” Ebba said, hauling Denny to his feet. His face mashed into her boobies. Boobies. She was a girl. He had a sudden hunch that she, like he, had been cursed. He looked at her as he wobbled on his broken boot heel.

“Why are you looking at me that way?” she snapped. “Stop crying. Nobody likes a sniveling pirate.”

“Under the circumstances, he can be tried in the fairy court,” the green-winged man muttered. “He is a fairy, even though his wings are buggered up.” He wrote something in his notebook. “I will refrain from making an official notification about your handicap. I’ll give you time to work on your wings.” He pointed to his left. “I’m doing this for Ebba, so do not waste this opportunity. She knows the way.”

Indeed she did. She led Denny to a path away from the shoreline. Things smelled a bit better here. Denny took a deep breath.

“It’s okay here now,” Ebba said. “The holding cells are quite pleasant. They’ll bring you something to eat and you can wash. I’ll see what I can do about your boots. You’re falling all over the place. We don’t want them thinking you’re the sad old drunk we both know you really are.”

“Hey! I’m not old. I’m twenty-five!”

“Okay. You’re a sad drunk then.”

“Hey! I’m not sad, or a drunk.”

“Hey, yourself. Have you looked in a mirror lately? You look like crap. Alcohol has aged you and don’t tell me you’re not a drunk. You don’t even remember what happened to me, do you?”

He gulped. “Nope.”

“I tried to protect you when Fortunata cursed you.”

“You did?” It was all so hazy. He’d been so horrified when the pretty princess had turned herself into an ugly old crone he recalled nothing else.

“I stood right in front of you. Because I protected you, she got mad. I protected a fairy so she turned me into a…a…girly man.”

“Oh, my God. I am so sorry.” Denny clutched Ebba’s arms.

She shrugged him off. “No big thing. I like being both. I have my male parts and my female parts. I’m officially recognized as a woman, but there are men who like both.” She suddenly smiled. “I give them the best of both worlds. My two husbands can testify to that.” She pushed him through the side entrance of a black and white marble building.

“This is the court?” Denny looked around.

“Yes. The Supernatural Superior Court. You are not on the Code Red list. Yet. You won’t face the judge or jury until tomorrow. In the meantime, get some rest. I’ll see if I can’t get someone in here to give you a shave. You look like a crazy hermit right now.” She left him at a check-in counter where a man who looked like a human bumblebee with huge, thick glasses waited for him.

“And practice using your feathers,” Ebba muttered in Denny’s ears. “There are two fairies on the jury. They won’t take kindly to you weeping about your wings. I’ll be back tonight. We need to prepare your defense.”

Denny hated to see her leave, but the bumblebee was talking to him. Denny strained to hear him. It wasn’t easy since every word out of the man’s mouth was accompanied by some serious buzzing. Denny listened as the man told him he would be held pending his piracy trial. “You’ll be in Cell Block D. That’s a nice one. They give you blankets in there.”

“Okay, thanks.” Denny kept hoping he was having a bad dream, but soon he was heading to his cell, a few men ahead of him. One guy was half eagle, half man. He had only one wing. His jealous glance in Denny’s direction made Denny feel ashamed for having made such a fuss about two wings. With two wings he could do something. With one wing, oh, boy. That would have been cruel. And here was a man living with it.

Denny followed the bumblebee man into a bare-walled cell that had a window protected by frosted glass and tiny, thick bars. He couldn’t see out, but light streamed in. He had a narrow bed with a pillow and blankets piled on one end. A small table and chair had been pushed against the wall. The bumblebee man hung a mirror on a hook nailed into the wall above it. Denny needed to get a look at himself. How bad was he? But the chamber pot beckoned and as soon as the cell door locked behind the bumblebee man, Denny made use of the pot, covering it with a cloth tucked into the handle.

A man without wings but the head of a fox and tail to match came in with a large pot of steaming water. He wore ordinary clothes, his tail protruding from the back of his pants. “I understand you have a wing problem.”

Denny nodded.

“Take everything off.”

Denny didn’t mind if he did. He stood naked as the fox man looked him over then placed the basin on the table. He beckoned Denny over to him. Using a gigantic sea sponge, he cleaned Denny’s face. Denny inhaled the fragrance of the scented water. Roses and lavender. He almost swooned. The fox man went over Denny’s entire feathers.

“You have to keep these clean. Your feathers have been stuck for some time. Looks and feels like candle wax. Did you fall into a lit candle or something?”

Denny was about to say no, but from somewhere deep in his memory banks, he recalled a late-night brawl. He seemed to remember being pushed against a wall beneath a candle sconce. When had that happened? Had he been injured? “Maybe,” he admitted.

The man gave him a kind smile. “Unless you use your wings, you’ll forget your human life. You’ll remember things from long ago but not recent activities. Your body is rejecting the fairy experience, but you belong to both worlds now.”

“What happened to you?” Denny asked.

The fox man stopped sponging Denny’s wings. “I was cursed.” He sighed and began dabbing again. “I rejected the crown princess.”

Denny’s heart sank. “What was her name?”

The fox man’s hand shook. “Fortunata.”

Denny stiffened.

The fox man put a steadying hand on Denny’s very sore wing. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t you know that’s why you’re here?”

“No. I know nothing. My crew mutinied against me and here I am.”

“Lucky for you. I read your case notes. Ebba paid gold for your recovery.”

“But I thought my crew gave her gold to take me.”

“Ha! They did. But she paid gold to informants to find your ship. We’ve been tracking you for weeks. If she gives a good defense of you, she can have her curse reversed.”

“Can I?”

“Don’t be stupid. You’ll be lucky if you’re sentenced to slavery. Most pirates are sentenced to death.”

“I still don’t understand why I’m here.” It hurt to think that Ebba had been looking out for herself all this time. He’d wanted to believe that he had a chance to make it out alive.

“Keep your voice down.” The fox man squeezed the sponge into the now very black water and patted Denny’s bad wing again. “Princess Fortunata is being held captive on a ship. Nobody knows where. But in her absence, the prince—”

“Merritt?” Denny asked excitedly.

“Yes, Prince Merritt. Do you know him?”

“Very well.” Intimately. You might say biblically.

The fox man frowned. “I wouldn’t admit that to anybody else if I were you. I’m telling you all of this in confidence. Shall I continue?”

“Yes. Please do.”

“He’s holding these trials, trying to figure out where she is. It was always rumored that you were the one who took her captive, though it’s obvious since you haven’t harnessed your magical powers that it’s impossible that you have her. I hear the prince is not happy.”

“I have magical powers?”

“Of course. Were you always this stupid or is it only since you became a fairy?”

“What sort of magical powers?” Denny was incensed that he’d known none of this and that he’d wallowed in self-pity all this time.

“You can fly. You can’t die from a gunshot wound. You can see things humans can’t. When you harness your power, you have acute hearing and vision. And for a male fairy, your dick gets huge. I mean really huge.”

This day was suddenly getting better. Denny absorbed all of this. He recalled letting the prince go because Merritt had confessed that their mutual love would affect his kingdom and his ability to rule. He was supposed to marry a woman and had been promised to a rival royal family’s daughter. Fortunata had refused to leave the ship, not suspecting her brother’s relationship with Denny. Well, that’s what she’d said at first, but Denny had been honest and it turned out she had known all along and blamed Denny for her brother’s sexual deviation.

He’d been truthful about everything and paid the price for it. Was it too late for him to explore his new power and use it to his advantage?

“If I can’t die by gunshot, how do fairies die?” Denny asked.

The fox man looked at him. “You should live forever, unless you ingest poison, or—”He paused dramatically. “You drink to excess. Each alcoholic beverage shortens your lifespan by a year.”

Denny’s mind went into a spiral of shock, denial, anger then acceptance. He’d stop drinking from now on. He resented that his crew had given him endless bottles of absinthe and wine. They were trying to get me to die!

“What is your name?” Denny asked the fox man, who rubbed at a waxy spot on Denny’s wing.”

“Barthelmass.”

“Nice name.”

“Thank you. And what about your curse? Can they lift it?”

Barthelmass moved in front of Denny and looked at him. “No. I never asked. I don’t feel cursed. I feel blessed. I can outrun any man I know. I have sharp senses of smell and hearing and I have plenty of girlfriends.” He smiled. “At least I did, until I met the love of my life and wanted to get married. According to the Supernatural Superior Court, we can’t do that until one of us has our curse removed.”

“Oh, that’s so sad.”

“We’re considered mixed races now.” Barthelmass looked devastated but recovered quickly. He moved behind Denny again and rubbed at the wing. It hurt, but Denny didn’t say so.

“There,” Barthelmass said. “Your wing is clear. Try to keep them free of restriction as much as possible. I’ll finish bathing you. See if you can’t get them to flap.”

“How do I do that? Everybody keeps telling me to try without telling me how to do it.”

“Imagine them flapping. I didn’t know what to do with my fox tail when I got it. Had some nasty bathroom accidents at first, which the ladies didn’t find so sexy.”

“No. I imagine not.”

Barthelmass squeezed the sponge into the water again and pressed Denny’s skin. The pain of the wax-glugged wing had subsided, and having another man touch his bare skin made his cock go boing. Uh-oh. He had to stop that.

“Imagine you have always had them. Picture them flapping. Send a message to them. Ask them to flap for you. To show you their magic.”

Denny did as he’d been told. Nothing happened at first. For several long minutes, he agonized over the futility of his efforts, but Barthelmass kept saying encouraging things.

“Feel their power. Persuade them back into life. Wings have feelings, too.” Barthelmass moved in front of Denny, washing his throat and chest. He teased Denny’s nipples with a moist fingertip as well as a gentle swipe of the sponge.

Denny could no longer hide his boner, and Barthelmass didn’t seem to take offense. In fact he captured Denny’s massive cock in his hand and stroked it. “Feel your power,” he coaxed. “Show me your wings!” Barthelmass stroked Denny’s cock with increasing force.

This seemed to set off a series of intense feelings deep within Denny’s body. The orgasm he had at the hands of the fox man made Denny’s wings twitch.

“That’s it.” The fox man kept his grip on Denny’s cock with one hand, the other touching the feathers in Denny’s wings. The wings vibrated.

“You’re doing it.”

Denny’s feet left the ground, but Barthelmass brought him back again. “I opened you up,” he said, “but now you’ll have to learn to do it without somebody bringing you sexual release.”

“Okay,” Denny said, hugely disappointed that it was over. He wanted so much more with the fox man.

Barthelmass finished cleaning Denny then handed him a pair of cotton pants and a shirt that gave the wings in his back freedom of movement.

Denny was confused about many things, such as why he needed his wings to work, but suddenly it came to him. Orgasm had released months of cloudy thoughts and feelings. Denny needed to show the court that he had accepted his new condition. That he harbored no ill feeling toward the princess. Even though he did.

The cotton pants he slid up and over his thighs reminded him of another jail in another time and place in a galaxy far, far away. He trotted to the bed and lay on his side.

“That’s good.” Barthelmass used the same gentle, coaxing tone he had earlier. “Rest now. And start again as soon as you’re awake.”

“You’re lovely to me.” Denny sighed when Barthelmass ran a cool hand over Denny’s brow.

“Ebba is the woman I want to be my wife. I want her to be free,” Barthelmass said. “She is the best thing in my life. She has explored both sides of her sexuality and if she becomes solely a woman, the laws will allow us to be married.” He picked up the basin and left.

Denny was too spent to even say goodbye. He fell into a deep sleep. He had always gravitated toward men but had no idea of how to pursue his desire for sexual contact with another. He’d gotten the chance unexpectedly when he was eighteen and thrown into a Spanish jail during a stop at the sea port of Tarragona, in the Mediterranean Sea. Denny had taken to sea life with remarkable ease and had been so influenced by his superior officers when they’d gone astray that he’d joined them on their less savory antics. Particularly when it had involved drinking. Though Denny chafed at authority, he shone when a superior officer befriended him. It came from his years as a street urchin. Always desperate to belong, he’d trotted beside the ship’s crewmembers when they’d stepped away from hauling barrels onto the ship and slipped into one of the many tavernas dotting the port.

For the first time, Denny had tasted the local drink, Chartreuse, an extremely alcoholic green drink that tasted sweet at first, but then developed a strong and pungent aftertaste that made the drinker imbibe more to get back the sweetness. Denny and the crew had ordered platters of pa amb tomàquet, which had turned out to be large slices of square toasted bread with scrapings of tomato laced with olive oil and salt. Denny couldn’t believe how good such a simple meal could taste. He thought of the numerous nights he and his sister, Polly, had slept without food in their bellies. Like the others, he’d kept drinking.

It had been something of a shock to find himself on a stone floor the next morning inside a jail cell. The place had been noisy and the head jailer had come to see him when a guard had alerted him that their prisoner was awake.

“Where are the others?” Denny had asked, sitting up and wishing the world would stop spinning.

The head jailer had paced. “My name is Christoph and I oversee things here.”

Denny had panicked that he’d been left behind, and waited for the news.

“Your friends refused to pay their bill and your captain, Lester Piggins, will not pay for it. He says he will leave you all here until you’ve learned your lesson.”

Denny had hated the sound of that and had plotted against Piggins from that moment.

“I understand,” Denny had said. What else could he have said? He didn’t speak Spanish and he’d been at the mercy of this Christoph guy who, though not especially attractive, had had a seductive accent, and so far had seemed quite kind.

Christoph had left him alone then, and for hours and hours, Denny had remained that way in his cell. He’d had no idea what was going on but had heard occasional chatter from other prisoners scattered around him. He’d tried to peer out of the bars of his cell, but hadn’t been able to see much. A frantic urge to pee had left him disheartened when he’d noticed the slop bucket in the corner. He’d made use of it, but it had demoralized him.

He’d done nothing wrong, or had he?