Dark and Stormy Read online

  A perk of having more money than I knew what to do with.

  And being this close to Fae, I realized I would have given him everything I owned—all but a single gun to take with me—even the clothes off my back, if it meant I could be in Fae today.

  “Oh, she called your bluff,” Dorian said, clapping. “I love a show in the morning.”

  Narcissus sighed, backing down almost immediately. “I really can’t spare one. You’ll have to buy a boat when we dock in Puerto Rico. If you have a million dollars to throw around, you may even get yourselves a crew willing to sail into Fae, provided you keep your destination to yourselves.”

  “But we’re right here!” I yelled, thrusting my arm out in the direction Alucard had indicated, my frustration obvious. I was pissed, suddenly. I mean, we were so close. My answers were only a few nautical miles away—and yet I was being told to wait. To be patient. Again.

  I seriously considered jumping in and swimming for it.

  “I know it’s not ideal,” Narcissus said. “But, bright side, you get to spend more time with me.” He grinned, not the least bit insincere.

  I chucked my tiny cup of coffee—now empty—on the ground with a curse. It shattered, causing the two immortals to jump in surprise. I strode towards the railing, too pissed off to care about their reaction. But then I noticed Narcissus padding over to the remains of my coffee cup. He edged out a toe, flicking away ceramic shards, then stumbled back with a hiss.

  “Get off my boat,” Narcissus said. “Now.”

  “Petal, why—” Dorian began.

  “No questions,” the Greek insisted, his eyes panicked. “Just go. Here.” He tossed Alucard a key. “Dorian, take them to one of the passenger boats. Quickly.” And with that, the Greek fled, headed elsewhere—probably as far away from us as he could manage, if I had to guess.

  I frowned and doubled back, ignoring Alucard and Dorian’s baffled expressions to glance down at whatever Narcissus had seen in my coffee grinds that had freaked him out so badly. At first, I couldn’t make out anything; it looked like a brown, pulpy mess to me. Then suddenly, with a slight tilt of my head, I saw it—loosely formed, but still…

  An eye, but not just any eye. The evil eye.

  Perhaps the single most universal symbol of death and destruction out there.

  Maybe Narcissus wasn’t crazy, after all.

  Chapter 12

  Dorian hunched over the railing, looking down on us like some sort of beatific angel, his exceedingly long eyelashes—the sort most women would kill for—catching the light. “You’ll have to forgive Narcissus,” Dorian said. “He can be a bit…superstitious. Just be glad he didn’t spit on you. Most of the Greek customs I can get behind…if you know what I mean. But others…” Dorian shuddered.

  I glanced over towards Alucard, wondering if the vampire found Dorian’s comments equally cringeworthy, but the vampire, who seemed to know at least a little something about boats—making him an expert compared to me—didn’t bother responding; he was too preoccupied getting the nifty little cruiser started. Truthfully, I hadn’t known what to expect from a passenger boat. I’d expected something between a fishing boat and a dinghy, but it turned out even Narcissus’ lesser boats had some panache; it felt like we were about to shoot a music video with T-Pain and Lonely Island.

  “It’s fine,” I replied, finally, shrugging. “Whatever gets me where I need to be.”

  “Practicality. One of my favorite virtues, I must admit,” Dorian said. “Well then, I suppose this is goodbye, for now. You’ll be sure to bring me something nice back from Fae, won’t you? A little souvenir? Nothing too gaudy, of course.”

  Alucard cranked the engine and the cruiser roared to life, the motor gurgling away. I stared up at the astonishingly gorgeous face of the legendary hedonist, smiled, and flipped him off. “How’s that for a souvenir?” I yelled, my voice barely carrying over the din of the engine.

  Dorian’s eyes flashed, and his grin turned predatory. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, darling!”

  I laughed as Alucard untethered us from the cruise liner and kicked us free. I hated to admit it, but part of me rather liked Dorian Gray. I still planned on paying the fucker back for his role in the Fight Night affair, but I had to admit he had style in spades; self-indulgence aside, he knew what he wanted and did what he had to do to get it. There was something admirable in that, I thought. I waved and headed for the front of the boat where Alucard stood, his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, navigating us away from Narcissus’ cruise ship and his bad omen.

  The evil eye.

  Frankly, as much as I wanted to mock the Greek’s superstitious nature, I’d been more than a little disturbed to find the evil eye in the pulpy remains of my coffee grounds.

  The evil eye had been a foreboding symbol for so long that you could find it represented in ancient hieroglyphs, even cave paintings—most often used to portend some sort of calamity. It even spanned across civilizations, many of which never even interacted directly, as if a universally acknowledged manifestation of evil. Basically, it was bad, bad juju, and I couldn’t blame Narcissus one little bit for kicking us off his ship upon seeing it.

  Still, if I went running every time a fortune teller gave me the “Oh, dear, I don’t know how to tell you this, but…” speech, I’d have Forest Gump’d it all the way to the Pacific and back again by now. It wasn’t so much that my luck was bad as it was that I was born under an aggressive sign, with no parents to speak of, and generally surrounded by mayhem and death. Frankly, any fortune teller who didn’t think I was a walking nexus of doom wasn’t worth her salt.

  “Have you considered the fact that this may be a monumentally stupid idea, cher?” Alucard yelled back at me over the whistling wind, his dark hair whipping around his face, licking his cheeks and throat.

  Like a dirty, sexy, pirate captain. I shivered.

  “Aye,” I replied. I had. In fact, I knew this was a monumentally stupid idea. I had a good life; plenty of money, a nice apartment, a couple worthwhile friends, a career that I could put time and energy into…there were plenty of people out there who would swap with me in a heartbeat. But that didn’t change how I felt. Some people might argue that leading a successful life hinged on making the smart choices, the safe choices—but I didn’t think like those people.

  So here we were.

  “So you’re sure you want to do this?” he asked. “Pretty much last call.”

  I found myself nodding before I could so much as process his question. Although frankly, this had nothing to do with want. I needed to do this. It wasn’t even solely about finding answers, about learning who my parents were, or what power was locked away inside me. It was like…it was like looking at a picture of a beautiful, far-off place your whole life—pinned to your wall, above the mirror, where you’d see it every day. But it wasn’t only a place, because you grew up hearing wonderful stories about the far-off land, stories full of daring and romance. Stories that taught you how to dream. I didn’t want to go to Fae. I needed to. I ached for it.

  “I’m sure,” I said, finally.

  Alucard nodded with a jerk of his chin, then spun the wheel, angling the nose of our little cruiser towards the sun, kicking up a small spray.

  “What is it ye see out there?” I asked, pointing out at the water.

  The Daywalker glanced back at me and shrugged. “I’m not sure how to describe it, exactly. It’s like a mirage. There one second, gone the next. But, if I look at it from the corner of my eye, I feel like I can see something shimmering in the distance.”

  “Somethin’ like what?” I asked, scowling. While I found the vampire poet thing kind of hot, I wasn’t interested in his vague, flowery description. How was I supposed to see it unless he described it as accurately as he could?

  “Not sure,” Alucard admitted. “But whatever is on the other side, we’ll find out fairly quick. It wasn’t that far out to sea. By the way, cher, did I hear you say that there were s
everal of these gates out here?”

  “Accordin’ to me source, aye. But she claimed only people who’ve been there before can see ‘em, and they aren’t as common as they once were. Somethin’ about our world and Fae bein’ driven apart.” I tried to remember what Eve had said, exactly, but I’d been too eager plotting my next step to pay close attention.

  No wonder she didn’t like talking to me.

  “Pretty lucky then, don’t you think?” Alucard asked, his tone insinuating he thought it anything but luck. “Us finding one so quickly?”

  I frowned. He was right; the odds of stumbling on an entrance to Fae so quickly were probably astronomically low. Unfortunately, I didn’t know what else to blame. “Aye, lucky,” I responded, my voice heavy with doubt.

  Alucard throttled down a little so we were barely crawling forward, choosing to ignore the coincidence for the time being. “Alright, we’re close. I suggest you hold on to something.”

  “And why would I need to do that?” I asked, eyes narrowed. “I could swim faster than this.”

  Alucard glanced back, smirking. “Because we have no clue what’s on the other side. Hell, we might end up sailing right into a forest. I might hit a tree, who knows? This way you’ll be braced for impact, at least.”

  Well, I supposed that made sense, although I didn’t like it; I hadn’t really factored in an abrupt change in topography. But Alucard was probably right—it would be silly not to prepare for anything. The Fae realm was notoriously unpredictable, after all. I sighed and secured my duffel and bug-out bag to the steering column, then coiled myself around one of the passenger seats, arms wound through the nearest set of handlebars. “Alright,” I called. “Ready!”

  Alucard nodded and throttled us forward. We slid across the water, the engine grumbling like an empty stomach. From where I was, I couldn’t see much, but I could feel the cruiser grind against something—the sound of metal tearing, like nails on a chalkboard, made me wince. I heard Alucard yell, but whatever he said was lost in an unexpected roar of wind. Then, with a suddenness that reminded me of a roller coaster hitting a downslope, we lurched forward until the whole passenger boat was completely vertical. We were falling through space.

  I tried to scream but, before I knew it, my legs had flown out behind me, the wind rushing past so fast it stole my breath away. The only thing that saved me from flying away was my grip on the rail, but even that was beginning to slip—the pressure on my arm and wrist from maintaining my hold was enough to make me want to black out. My heart was in my throat, like I’d leapt off an airplane. I couldn’t even think straight.

  “Quinn!” Alucard roared, so close I knew I could reach out and touch him, though I wasn’t sure how that was possible. “You have to let go!”

  Oh, fuck that.

  “Now!” he yelled. I felt his hands wrap around my waist like an electric jolt that sent goosebumps flooding over my skin—the sensation almost too much to bear after falling for so long. I had an instant to think that it wasn’t anything like when Appleseed and I touched. That had been painful—mind-numbingly so, in fact—and this was anything but. Unfortunately, I had no time to dwell on it; Alucard yanked me free, forcing me to let go of the rail. Suddenly, the wind’s immense pressure was gone, just in time for me to watch the cruiser continue its plummet—at least until it disappeared in the mist, along with my guns and bug-out bag.

  And—with them—all joy.

  Chapter 13

  I reached out, fingers splayed, eyes pinched shut—willing my duffel bag to rise up from the mist. But, eventually, my hand dropped. The Force had forsaken me, yet again.

  “I must admit, I had no idea that was what was on the other side of the threshold,” Alucard muttered. The Daywalker was carrying me aloft, his whole body encased in flame, complete with outspread wings so that we hovered in place with each powerful thrust of his wings.

  I don’t know why, but the sensation that we were suddenly flying didn’t hit me as strongly as it probably should have.

  So much for First World problems.

  Guess now I had Fae-world problems.

  Luckily, it seemed like his body and wings emitted only friendly flames; I hadn’t caught fire yet, at least. I noticed he seemed preoccupied, scanning our immediate surroundings as if we were being hunted. But there was nothing to see, as far as I could tell. A thick fog stretched out in all directions, so dense I couldn’t make anything out beyond the reach of my hands.

  It wasn’t until I thought about my hands that I noticed it—that familiar, searing pain around my wrist, painful enough to distract me from the vice-like grip Alucard had around my midsection. I held up my arm. This time the bracelet glowed faintly, its edges white hot and singeing the fine hairs at my wrist. I tried to remove the damn bangle; I could always put it back on later when it wasn’t hot enough to brand me…but it wouldn’t budge. In fact, it seemed to have gotten tighter, somehow. I cursed, gritting my teeth.

  “Quiet,” Alucard barked, his voice harsh.

  I jerked my head around, glaring at the vampire. “And just who the fuck d’ye t’ink ye are, tellin’ me—”

  Alucard hiked me up and pinned his free hand across my mouth before I could say another word. I gave the vampire the dirtiest look I could manage, but he wasn’t even paying attention to me. Fine. I stuck my tongue out, licking his palm as aggressively as I could, slobbering all over his hand and my mouth—the childhood trick for grossing out anyone rude enough to clamp their hand over your mouth.

  But Alucard didn’t even seem to notice.

  I cursed, inwardly, and briefly considered drawing the only gun I had left from my inner thigh holster—maybe the barrel of a pistol against his head would warrant his attention. But on the heels of that thought came another: I’d lost my other guns. My poor, poor guns.

  I was halfway through inventorying them, saying a tiny prayer for each, when I heard it. Singing. Men, singing, their voices echoing in the fog in an eerily haunting ballad. Alucard spun us around once, then again, trying to locate the source of the sound.

  “They’re close,” he whispered.

  Suddenly, the bow of a massive pirate ship came into view above us, piercing the fog like some kind of ancient beast. Which was eerie as hell, but awesome because—thanks to a mildly unhealthy fascination with all things Jack Sparrow in my early twenties—pirate ships I knew.

  It was an old-school vessel, with three masts, sails unfurled, and a wicked-looking bowsprit that soared high into the air. Rusty cannons lined the hull, and a black skull-and-crossbones flag flew from the crow’s nest—the jolly roger. The song, I realized, was a shanty—one of the rowing tunes sailors used to keep time. That’s when I noticed the oars, poking out from beneath the hull, working in tandem, carving through the fog at steady pace.

  The ship was sailing on the mists.

  “Ahoy there!” a voice called. “Looks like Fae overboard!”

  A small crew of perhaps ten men came running in response, poking their heads out to stare down at us, their expressions impossible to make out due to the haze. Alucard removed his hand from my mouth, his whole body was tensed, clearly expecting a fight. I considered replying—confessing we weren’t Fae at all—but decided against it; until we knew how these sailors felt about Faelings, it was probably best to keep quiet.

  “Doesn’t look like any Fae I’ve ever seen,” a sailor called, perched halfway up the foremast. “Hell, that looks like a dame that flaming buzzard is carrying!”

  A dame? Seriously? I was about to respond with something scathing when I noticed someone running along the ship’s railing, clutching a rope attached to one of the masts in his hand. My eyes went wide as I realized what he intended to do, but even then, I wasn’t fully prepared for it; he leapt off the side of the ship, falling straight for us, whooping for joy as he came.

  I winced, but couldn’t look away as he came soaring closer.

  At the last possible instant, he jerked to a stop, swinging, catching himself wi
th the perfect grace of a Faeling, feet nimbly wrapped around the balled end of the rope, one hand hanging free at his side. He had the face of a leading man, his blonde hair so long he’d tied it back into a ponytail with a bit of cloth, exposing his exceedingly long, pointed ears. His smile was a familiar, welcome one.

  Ryan O’Rye.

  “Quinn! Is that you?” Ryan exclaimed in disbelief, his eyes comically wide, looking like he’d been hit over the head with a hammer.

  Alucard growled and swung me away, possessively. “Back off, runt,” he snarled.

  “Oy!” I said, elbowing the vampire. “Knock that shite off, that’s me friend you’re talkin’ to. Aye, Ryan, it’s me!”

  The Faeling’s grin broke out wide, his teeth perfectly straight, eyes bright. The consummate ladies’ Faeling, Ryan had once worked for Christoff before being forced to return from his exile to work for King Oberon, one of the three major powers responsible for maintaining the natural order of chaos here in Fae. We hadn’t been the closest of friends, but he’d been reliable, dependable—which was more than I could say for most of the people in my life up to this point.

  “We need to go,” Alucard said, his voice strained. He stared at Ryan like the Faeling were diseased, capable of infecting us.

  “Easy there,” Ryan said, bowing his head, his eyes locked on Alucard. “Quinn and I are old friends. That’s all. I’m no threat.”

  No threat? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Alucard adjusted a little, floating upwards so he could look down on the Faeling, his gaze imperious. “I accept your submission,” Alucard said, finally. “We need to land.”

  Ryan nodded, grinning. “Yeah, I bet she’s pretty heavy.”

  I glared at them both. What the fuck kind of masculine staring contest had that been just now? And what did Alucard mean by “submission”? Before I could ask, however, Ryan’s comment finally registered. “Oy! Bring me closer to me old friend,” I demanded, giving Ryan the full weight of my attention. “He needs an old-fashioned nose job, courtesy of me fist.”