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“Don’t mind him. He’s not serious.”

  “No mind at all,” Benedict said, straightening a little, catching her eye for a moment. “He does make a man feel pretty.”

  Veruca laughed, the delight exploding out of her in a way that shocked her system. It was always amusing to watch Finn be so carelessly charming with others, to see him flirt and flatter those who wouldn’t mind or who might enjoy it. She knew he had no real interest in anyone but her, but part of what made him lovable was his capacity for love. He was committed to Veruca, but still had it in him to adore anyone and everyone.

  Benedict being amused by Finn’s shameless attraction to him tickled Veruca in a way she couldn’t quite identify. He would be professional, probably wouldn’t have taken Finn up on his offers even if the situation were different, but he liked the attention and found it funny, all the same. This man with a gun and a job to do, who had only the love of his parents in his past, enjoyed that Finn would have eagerly romanced him if the chips had fallen into place differently.

  “He’s a light in the darkness, always.”

  “Then we need to make sure he’s not snuffed out.”

  Veruca only nodded, reality settling back into place like a weight on her shoulders.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “But why does the sheep have to go?” Finn asked, clasping Veruca’s hands, looking into her eyes intently. She couldn’t say she had the answer, but Darcy had managed to wrangle one while Veruca had been away and now here it stood, waiting patiently, munching grass, flapping its tail sporadically.

  “I’m more concerned about the witch going, honestly,” Veruca said with a sigh, watching Justin fiddle with a Rubik’s cube Benedict had given him at the safe house.

  “Darcy says he has to be there to activate the charm.”

  “Yes, darling, I heard. It just seems dangerous, is all.”

  “Well, then perhaps you shouldn’t do it. We can stay here and—”

  “No nude beaches, Finn. We have too many important things to handle.”

  “I’ll give you something to handle,” Finn said with a wink, leaning in close to kiss her cheek. She laughed, leaning against him for comfort, for support, for the hell of it. Soon as they were back from this, she was going to take a real nap and then hopefully a shower. Darcy still hadn’t brought up what would be happening after Veruca had protection from her voice, but Veruca hadn’t pressed.

  Her very human body needed rest and she was determined to get it.

  “As delightful as that sounds, we must be going. What are you and Donald going to get up to while we’re gone?”

  “Waffle pizza,” Finn said confidently.

  Veruca just nodded, knowing that if anyone could talk a place into making such a thing at such an hour, it was Finn. “Save me a slice.”

  Finn gave her one last gentle kiss on her forehead and then pulled back enough to focus on Benedict. “Take care of my girl,” he said sternly, a little more seriously than usual.

  Benedict nodded. “That’s the job.”

  When Finn turned back to her, Veruca looked past him, calling out to Donald. “Take care of my boy.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Donald said with a sigh, making Finn roll his eyes.

  “Don’t sound so defeated, we’ll have a grand ol’ time. Come, let’s go see what pie joints are open.”

  Veruca watched Finn drag Donald back toward the cozy, small house near the end of a cookie cutter row of other such abodes, and then turned to Darcy, who’d been waiting patiently off to the side, having no one to bid farewell and nothing to say about Finn’s constant silliness. She wanted to argue over Justin, over the danger in bringing him to Fairy—with or without the charm the rest of them had gotten. Darcy would, she knew, be as reticent to discuss the strange change as she’d been before.

  “I’m ready if you are,” Veruca said, though she didn’t feel ready.

  “Yes, of course. Come, I’ll need you close. The siren’s glamour is barely big enough for her, let alone everyone.”

  “Should we move elsewhere?” Benedict asked. “There’s a park around the corner, assuming the backyard is too open.”

  “No, this spot is strongest. It’s been an age since I’ve opened a Fairy portal. I don’t want to accidentally lead us into the wrong spot.”

  “Beware the king’s bargain,” Justin sang under his breath, with the cadence of a distracted teen humming an ear-worm.

  “You’re sure it’s safe to bring him?” Veruca asked, unable to help herself.

  Darcy nodded. “It’s been awhile,” she said, her tone biting. “Like I said, I forgot he would be necessary in the end.”

  “But is it safe? You were concerned before that his presence could bring down some heat.”

  “We don’t have a choice,” Darcy said, the edge to her voice making Veruca wonder if she too needed a nap. Did sirens nap? Did banshees? She didn’t have it in her to ask. “I may need a minute.”

  Darcy took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and lifted her hands to clasp them in front of her breast. Nothing happened for a bit, though Justin kept humming his tune. When Darcy’s soul jumped, Veruca jolted, worried for a moment something had gone wrong. It sprung outward like an exploding water balloon, enveloping them all in a cloud that Veruca quickly recognized as glamour meant to conceal them and keep any humans nearby from realizing something strange was going on.

  Veruca had no glamour herself, but she’d been around it a few times and this looked similar.

  The siren’s soul sparked then, the golden thread flaring up as if it was made of light that had been suddenly infused with some flammable gas. Veruca moved to step back, but Justin pressed a hand to her shoulder, holding her in place. When she looked up to see if he’d regained some of his lucidity, she found him focused intently on her, but not in a way that spoke of true awareness.

  “She who walked the path ahead has much to teach us. Seek her out when the tapestry unravels.”

  Veruca watched him for a moment, feeling an unfocused sense of dread at his words, and then nodded solemnly. Justin, still holding her in place, looked up toward Darcy again, his eyes going wide.

  “T’would be a lovely home, but I have a curfew.”

  Veruca turned back as well, startled to find that Darcy’s soul was shining, shimmering in the air like a pool reflecting the scenery around it. Only, it wasn’t the quaint B.C. neighborhood view that rippled back.

  ****

  “I can’t believe there isn’t a single pizza place that’ll toss a couple’a waffles over the top of a pie.”

  “Really?” Donald asked from the couch. “You can’t believe there isn’t a pizza place with a waffle iron and batter at the ready just in case they get a request like this?”

  “Savory waffles, it’s a thing!” Finn argued, though he knew Donald had a point. “Chicken and waffle pizza, it’s got to be a thing somewhere.”

  “I think you’re just confused over not being able to charm someone into doing what you want.”

  “There’s that too,” Finn agreed, tossing the phone onto the chair left of the couch. It had been a while since he’d seen a phone that wasn’t mobile, but this place looked about twenty years out of date and it still had a bulky, cordless handset that was dusty, but seemed to be plugged in. He’d wanted to use it just for the novelty. “Can’t charm everyone, though. You’re a prime example.”

  “I’m not gay, Finn, it’s not about charm.”

  “Hey, neither am I, and I’ve been around.”

  “I’m not bisexual either,” Donald said, leveling a look Finn’s way that made Finn reconsider dropping down onto the couch and patting Donny’s knee like he’d been planning.

  “Well, you’re missing out. Some very attractive men out there, let me tell you.”

  Donald snorted quietly but wasn’t as amused by the teasing as Finn had hoped. Dropping down into the chair where he’d tossed the phone—and shifting slightly when the hard, plastic antenna jabbed him in the but
t cheek—Finn jerked his chin. “Poppy’s cute, don’t you think?”

  “Poppy’s not a man,” Donald said, his lip quirked. “But yeah, she’s cute.”

  “Ask her out.”

  “Finn.” Donald sighed. “I don’t need your dating advice.”

  “You sure? When was the last time you, you know?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  Finn squinted, watching Donald’s body language, trying to guess if he should press the conversation further or veer off in another direction. Figuring the distraction from worrying about Veruca would likely do him some good, he lifted his hands, pointing both index fingers accusatorially in Donald’s direction.

  “Six months.”

  Donald’s demeanor changed in an instant, his body going rigid, his eyes widening for an instant before he tried to control his shock.

  “Finn—”

  “I’m right!” Finn said, delighted that his stab in the dark had been correct. “Ask Poppy out, she’s into you.”

  “I’m above her, it would be inappropriate.”

  “Isn’t the whole point to be above her? Or below her? Or next to her, pressed up against a wall? However you like it.”

  “That’s—”

  “Come on, Donald,” Finn said, letting his tone go serious. “You deserve to be happy, man. You’re a kind, sweet, smart, funny man. You should be in love.”

  “The hotel keeps me pretty busy.”

  “Only because you let it. Veruca’s talked about trying to get you to take more vacation. This doesn’t count,” Finn said, anticipating Donald’s argument. “You’re getting paid, but you’re not out there living life. That’s what you gotta do. Go live life!”

  Donald sat there, still and quiet, his gaze on a spot on the coffee table that didn’t look all that interesting to Finn, but that suddenly held Donald’s attention like it was a prancing circus pony riding a jet ski. Sensing a change in the atmosphere, worried suddenly something had occurred to Donald, or that he’d sensed something that Finn couldn’t, Finn remained still and quiet, hoping it was just a gopher or something scooting around the yard and into Donald’s empathic range, and not something more dangerous.

  Without a word, Donald stood stiffly, turned toward the door, and walked like a robot right outside.

  ****

  Veruca sat in the middle of the small boat, looking out over the sparkling water, a magical shade of blue that reminded her a lot of the Mediterranean. The land off in the distance was a craggy mix of green and tan, too far to make out in most directions. The island they were headed toward, however, was low and rocky, dotted with trees here and there but dominated by the palace high on a spear of rock that looked too narrow to hold the impressive building at its top.

  The sheep bleated lazily next to Veruca, turning awkwardly in the narrow space, and bumped its nose against Justin’s jacket, probably looking for the herbs and flowers he’d tucked in there. Justin ignored the wooly creature as if she wasn’t there at all. The sheep gave up after a moment, and Veruca turned back to the front of the boat, realizing they’d somehow come upon the island quite quickly, much sooner than she’d anticipated.

  Without being asked, Benedict got to his feet, demonstrating an able pair of sea legs, and grabbed for the rope draped loosely around a post at the bow.

  “If we’re welcome, it’ll take care of itself,” Darcy explained, still seated, her hands loose in her lap, despite the obvious tension in her shoulders.

  “And if we’re not?” Benedict asked, lifting a brow and watching her reaction closely. Darcy didn’t answer, her gaze focused on the Seussian palace at the edge of the small island. “Well, then.”

  Benedict dropped the rope, taking a step back from it as far as he was able, and then scanned the area. Veruca did the same, curious about the lack of life on the island. Flora that would normally hold bugs and dirt typically concealing small, roving rodents was devoid of all souls.

  It wasn’t out of the question for her perceptions to be warped now that they were in Fairy, but she could still sense those around her, so she was running on the assumption she’d be able to continue spotting others before they got too close.

  As if on cue, a twist of a soul appeared, shooting out of a small line of foliage in the distance, aimed right for them. It wasn’t a type Veruca recognized, never something she’d seen in the human world, but she was sure from the edges of it that it was not the entirety of a creature. The rawness reminded her of the way Donald’s empathy sometimes looked when rushing back to him after encountering something stronger or more emotional than usual. Her bet was that it was magic, someone’s soul left behind as part of a spell to take action based on whatever set of parameters the rest of the whole had dictated.

  Sure enough, rather than rushing toward Darcy or Veruca or even Benedict, it circled the boat once, gripped the rope Benedict had dropped, and dragged it up and over to tie it securely to the dock.

  “I guess we’ve done something right,” Benedict said, bracing himself as the boat bumped to a stop, bounced and twisted slightly. The magic fled, leaving them to get themselves from the awkwardly docked vessel up onto land.

  Benedict used the rope and some ingenuity to pull the boat in close, holding it in place as everyone else climbed out, and then followed himself, waiting for further instruction when no one continued on. The sheep bleated from the boat, doing an awkward tap dance as if it wanted to leave but didn’t trust the uneven footing.

  Darcy stood, staring off in the distance with concern on her face, ignoring the distressed sheep and Justin’s sudden quiet mumbling.

  Veruca watched her for a moment, before crouching down to grip the back end of the boat and hold it close, gesturing to the sheep, but looking up at Benedict. “Help me help her out.”

  “She probably weighs as much as you do and seems to be twice as stubborn. This isn’t going to be easy.”

  “Are you comparing me to a farm animal?” Veruca asked with a small smile, delighted that Benedict was so game to get up close to the sheep and push the stubborn creature forward until she had no choice but to step up onto the dock.

  “I guess technically yes,” Benedict said once the sheep was taking off at a clip toward the island. Justin followed her slowly, still talking to himself. “But I like farm animals.”

  “I’m sure,” Veruca said, having been vegetarian for long enough to know what he was probably going to say next.

  “Especially pigs. I read Charlotte’s Web a lot as kid,” Benedict said, surprising her by not going straight to some tired ‘bacon’ joke.

  “It’s a good book,” Veruca agreed, before gesturing forward. “We should probably go after the witch, lest he wander off and we lose him.”

  “Can you lose him?” Benedict asked, letting her go first. They passed Darcy, leaving her to her contemplation. “Can’t you see where he is?”

  “If he gets far enough away, I’m no good to anyone.”

  “Good to know,” Benedict said. “I think he’s safe, but I’m not sure where the sheep is headed.”

  “There’s another flock behind the castle,” Darcy said, suddenly pushing past them at a clip. “Which is where we’re headed.”

  “Finally,” Benedict said as she rushed off. “Some direction.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Veruca looked up at the castle spearing up into the sky, still boggled that it would stand at all. It twisted and split like an awkward tree that had done its best despite growing off the side of a shear cliff. The base underneath it seemed to be a cylinder of granite many times taller than Veruca, and its walls were so perfectly smooth they looked fake. It was a strange mix, to say the least.

  “Are we headed there? Is that where the blacksmith lives?”

  “Yes, Darcy said, though her gaze was off to the left, deeper into the island, looking out across a field dotted with white splotches that Veruca could only barely make out in the sharp sunlight. “Though, she’s not in there now.”
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br />   “She?”

  “Yes.” Darcy looked to Veruca, surprise naked on her face. “You can’t see her?”

  “I can’t see much in this light.”

  “Not that kind of see,” Darcy said, giving a small shake of her head. “I thought maybe your powers would be magnified here, but it doesn’t matter. You’ll feel her soon enough.”

  Justin was behind, still mumbling to himself, with Benedict taking up the rear. The sheep ambled along amiably, unbothered by the rocky terrain, bleating every so often, but seemingly happy enough to be in this strange place with odd humans, rather than with her own flock back home on earth. The power the siren’s soul held would probably never cease to surprise and worry Veruca.

  Abruptly, Veruca felt something—someone, a type of fae she’d never felt before. At first, the soul was hard to read, difficult and a little jumbled like a witch soul, but as Veruca inspected it she realized the jumble was part of its design. The rope of it, the power weaved around the heart of the cyclops, was thick, larger than most any soul Veruca had seen before, and to fit into the space in the chest, it seemed to be so tightly wound and snug that it almost strangled itself.

  The look of it was different than Belial’s soul or Ankyati’s, if only because it had a lot less power inherent in it. The glow was mild, despite the strength in the soul.

  “A cyclops?” Veruca asked, intrigued.

  Darcy nodded, but instead of saying anything, paused a step, snaking behind Veruca to place her hand on the sheep’s head, patting it gently. “Good girl. Go enjoy your new friends.”

  There was no order in her words, but power flowed just the same, the bits of the siren’s soul that had been hooked into her heart darting upward through the sheep’s sturdy body and into Darcy’s hand, flowing up to become part of the whole once again. The sheep cried out, confused momentarily, distressed, stomping her hooves once, before she seemed to notice the blobs of white in the distance.

  As she did, the cyclops appeared, stepping out of a small shed out in the field. Veruca could tell, even from a distance that the cyclops was large, maybe twice the height of a human, and built like a brick house. She was feminine in her own way, almost human in appearance, though just different enough to be interesting. Her limbs were long, her neck wide, and her hair, which was pulled up into a knot atop her head, looked coarse and rough like horse hair. She was tan, possibly from sun exposure, though Veruca imagined it could have just been her natural skin tone, and she was carrying a heavy axe as she closed in.