King of the Wilds: Rosethorn Valley Fae #3 Page 3

  “Except the workman said he heard singing before the monster ran away,” Miranda said.

  “Hey, that was you,” Tabitha said, elbowing Sara.

  Sara grinned.

  Miranda noticed they had matching tattoos on their left hands, inky black vines starting at their fingers and twining up around their wrists. The two men had them, too. It was as if they were in some kind of magical gang.

  Miranda shook her head, willing herself to focus.

  “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” she asked.

  “Yes, but first we have to get food,” Bron said. “What do you want?”

  “The special - eggs, bacon, toast, coffee, everything,” Miranda listed quickly. “Listen, can you order while I run and freshen up?”

  Bron scowled at her.

  “I’m not going to make a run for it in these shoes, if that’s what you think,” she said, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

  He scooted out of the booth and let her go.

  She strode through the diner to the bathroom hallway in the back. Thankfully, she didn’t know any of the teenagers or old folks here tonight.

  After taking care of her needs, she washed her hands and face carefully.

  It had been a very long day.

  Work was stressful, as was her relationship with her boss. And lately, her own ability had been more strange and frightening than any of the rest of it.

  But the face gazing back at her in the mirror looked more alive than it had in a long time.

  Whatever was going on with her, the people out at that table seemed to know more about it than she did.

  Of course, they saw her as an enemy to Rosethorn Valley since she worked for the man who was tearing down the historic mansion.

  But they were working to rid the cliffside of the monsters that were loose there.

  That was also in Cullen Ward’s best interests.

  If Miranda worked with them, she would really be helping her boss.

  And maybe helping herself too, if they could help her understand her own ability to compel as Tabitha had put it.

  There was a knock at the bathroom door.

  “Come in,” Miranda said. There were two stalls in the room, she wasn’t entirely sure why anyone would knock.

  “Hey,” Sara said, slipping inside with her.

  “Oh, hi,” Miranda said.

  “Listen, I know we all got off on the wrong foot,” Sara said. “But I think we have a lot of priorities in common. And I think we can help each other with some of it.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” Miranda admitted.

  “Maybe it’s a good idea to work together to capture the fachan,” Sara said. “Your, um, ability complements our group’s gifts. Just don’t take it too badly if we try to convince you to see things our way when it comes to the mansion.”

  “I know I’m not going to change your mind,” Miranda said. “And I won’t try.”

  “Sounds like a deal to me,” Sara said. “Friends for now?”

  Miranda took the hand Sara offered and shook it. “Friends for now.”

  Sara smiled.

  “Hey, what’s with the tattoos?” Miranda asked, indicating Sara’s left hand.

  “Oh, wow,” Sara said. “I guess that does seem weird. They’re magical. They appeared on our hands when I became Dorian’s queen. And the same thing happened for Tabitha and Tristan.”

  “You’re…?” Miranda couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “A fairy queen?” Sara offered. “Yeah. How weird is that? Who knew my second grade Halloween costume could accurately predict my future? I guess I’m just lucky I didn’t go as a zombie cheerleader that year.”

  A startled laugh came out of Miranda’s lips.

  Sara laughed too, and for a moment it felt like the beginning of a real friendship, not just a friendship for now. Miranda hadn’t met many people who were willing to just open up to her the way Sara just did.

  They left the bathroom together and headed back to the table, where two waitresses were already depositing an improbably large amount of breakfast foods.

  “Wow,” Miranda breathed.

  “One thing to know when you hang out with these guys,” Sara confided. “They eat a lot.”

  “My kind of people,” Miranda said, smiling.

  She glanced over at Bron and was happy to notice there were no tattoos on his left hand.

  He raised his eyebrows as if asking why she was looking at him.

  She gave him a quick smile and then focused on her meal, hoping he hadn’t caught what she was looking for.

  4

  Bron

  Bron stood on the soft carpet of Miranda’s hotel room.

  After a hearty meal, she had asked to come back here and change before heading into the woods to deal with the fachan.

  Bron had insisted on accompanying her. The others would meet them at the parking area.

  “Almost ready,” Miranda called to him.

  He hoped so.

  Bron was most comfortable outdoors. Failing that, he preferred caves and cabins, and in a pinch, he was learning he could tolerate the basements and first floors of more modern structures.

  In the fae realm, the jewel of his kingdom was his beautiful underground castle made up of round, cozy rooms with dim labyrinthine tunnels between them.

  On the other hand, Miranda had described Tarker’s Hollow’s new Inn as bright and airy.

  Bron appreciated the nature paintings in the lobby. But the fourth floor of a gigantic stone and mortar building, unsheltered by trees or mountains, was not a place where he liked spending time.

  Miranda’s presence made it more bearable though.

  She had stoked his lust again a moment ago, wandering from the bathroom to the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel, water droplets sliding down her delicious flesh. Her hair had been down, the wet locks cascading down her back like liquid fire.

  “You know we’re just going back in the woods, right?” he’d barked out, turning away and trying to cover up the pang of passion he felt.

  “I know,” she’d said. “I just want to be clean, even for a few minutes.”

  He paced the soft carpet and peered out the giant windows into the darkness, hoping the fachan hated big buildings as much as he did.

  She reentered, her hair pulled back in a tidy bun again, wearing bright pink breeches with a pink tunic on top and a pair of soft looking shoes without points on the heels.

  “Sorry, my yoga stuff is all I have with me,” she said. “Other than business suits, that is.”

  “This color is not good for sneaking,” he said. “But you’ll make good bait.”

  “Uh, thank you,” she replied.

  He drew in a breath.

  “You don’t like being thanked?” she asked.

  “The folk do not like the burden it implies,” he told her.

  “Huh,” she said. “I know someone else who says he hates thanks. I always thought it was because he was too rotten to say it himself.”

  Bron laughed.

  He liked this woman. She said what she thought. This was a rare quality among his people.

  She smiled back at him quizzically.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  “Of course,” he told her.

  They headed out of the room. The door clicked behind them and she checked to be sure it was locked.

  “Elevator or stairs?” she asked when they reached the hall.

  “Stairs, please,” he said gratefully. She seemed to sense his discomfort in this place.

  They headed down to the lobby, where a sleepy receptionist asked if they needed help.

  “We’re just heading out for a walk,” Miranda replied.

  The receptionist glanced at the clock on the wall, eyebrows high at the late hour, then shrugged and leaned back on her hand.

  “I need to be a better liar,” Miranda murmured when they reached the parking lot.

  “My kind aren’t go
od liars,” Bron said.

  “I’ve heard that before,” Miranda said thoughtfully. “But lying is more than just saying something that isn’t true. There are other ways to be less than honest.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “It seems you know more about my kind than I would have expected.”

  “Well, we’ve all read the fairytales,” she said, unlocking the car.

  They got in and buckled up. He watched as she started the car.

  “You’re from this town?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “No wonder you’re comfortable with magic,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s something about this place,” he said. “You can just feel it. My brothers told me there was some kind of portal opened nearby that let the old magic back into this part of the world. I don’t know if that’s true, but there is definitely something special about this place.”

  She glanced at him. “I’ve always felt that way. But I could never put my finger on it.”

  “My kind have only recently returned,” he told her. “But there’s more than fae magic here. Maybe we’ll learn more of it while we’re monster hunting.”

  “Maybe,” she said, gazing at the road in front of her.

  He wondered suddenly what drove her. She worked hard and she wore no man’s ring.

  “What do you wish for, Miranda Cannon?” he asked impulsively.

  Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged.

  “Right now I wish we could catch the fachan, so he doesn’t eat me,” she said lightly.

  That wasn’t what he had meant. But he let it go.

  They had an adventure ahead. It was time to focus.

  The road through Tarker’s Hollow was already leading them over the bridge and into Rosethorn Valley.

  Mist hung over the creek tonight, lending the little borough an extra air of mystery.

  Fear began to twist around his heart.

  What if something happens to her tonight?

  But Bron would not allow that.

  He just wouldn’t.

  5

  Miranda

  Miranda parked the car and then smoothed her hair down as best she could.

  She wasn’t going to work, but she was basically going to fight a monster with a group of people who didn’t really like her.

  And she was wearing a silly pink yoga outfit.

  And, apparently, curls were going to escape from her bun, no matter how ruthlessly she crammed them back in.

  “It looks nice,” Bron said quietly.

  She glanced over at him, feeling a little sheepish. “I just want it out of my way,” she fibbed.

  He nodded and gave her a half smile that made her insides do a little flop.

  What is going on with me?

  Miranda was usually the practical type. The fact that she was even standing here, after all she’d been through tonight, was out of character for her. And her inability to keep her thoughts, and her eyes, off of some random man she’d just met in the woods was causing her to question her very sanity.

  Maybe she’d fallen in the woods earlier, and this was all some concussion-induced dream.

  It sure didn’t feel like one.

  She pushed the thoughts aside as they got out of the car and headed to where the others were grouped around a flashlight.

  Except that as she got closer, Miranda saw it wasn’t a flashlight at all.

  The blond one, Tristan, held a ball of glowing golden energy between his palms.

  “Whoa,” she breathed before she could stop herself.

  “In our realm, Tristan is the King of Light,” Bron told her. “And Dorian is the King of Darkness.”

  Holy crap. These guys really weren’t kidding around.

  “And what are you?” Miranda asked, trying to play it cool. “The king of mid-afternoon snacktime?”

  Bron threw his head back and laughed. It was a deep, booming sound that made Miranda feel instantly at home.

  “I’m the King of the Wilds,” he told her. “The creatures and plant life are my domain.”

  She nodded. Somehow, that made perfect sense.

  “Sara is a bard,” Tabitha said. “She can sing magic songs. And I’m a mender. I fix broken things.”

  “Seriously?” Miranda asked.

  She had never met anyone with powers like hers. Or anyone who was so direct about something so unusual. As much as these two had resented her ability to compel, it sounded like they had their own unfair advantages.

  Maybe that was why she felt a sort of kinship with them, despite their differences. It was too bad the other women didn’t feel the same.

  “How does your magic work?” Sara asked Miranda. “Maybe we can use it against the fachan.”

  Miranda shook her head. “I don’t really know,” she admitted. “I never really thought about it as magic. It was just… something I could do. I’ve spent most of my life trying to restrain it. I’ve only recently tried to use it. I think it’s getting stronger.”

  The other two women nodded.

  “It’s been like that with us for a while as well,” Sara confided. “But it’s definitely gotten more intense since these guys arrived on the scene.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” Miranda said, unsure of whether it actually did or not.

  “Let’s find this thing,” Bron said suddenly, surveying the tree line in a decidedly suspicious way.

  “What’s the plan?” Sara asked.

  “Let’s split up into groups of two,” Tabitha suggested. “We can cover more ground that way. Just yell if you see anything. Tristan and I will go through the woods to the north of the trail. You and Dorian go south.”

  “We’ll go straight down the path,” Bron said to Miranda.

  Miranda nodded, trying not to take it personally.

  It was painfully clear that Tabitha wanted to split up because she didn’t want to spend another minute with Miranda.

  It doesn’t matter if she likes me, Miranda told herself. It’s not like we’re all going to be best friends or something. I’m just helping them with this one task.

  “Ready?” Bron asked.

  His green eyes glimmered in the moonlight. He was the size of a mountain, but his expression was that of a kid on Christmas.

  “You really love it out here, don’t you?” she asked him.

  “Oh yes,” he replied. “Don’t you?”

  “I’m really more the indoors-y type,” she admitted.

  “You must not be doing it right,” he told her as they started down the path.

  “How am I doing it wrong?” she asked, laughing.

  “First of all, those clothes you had on earlier were all wrong,” he told her. “You can’t enjoy the forest when you’re fighting against it just to walk.”

  “That’s fair,” she said. “But I’m dressed pretty appropriately now. Why am I not loving it?”

  “Because you’re not paying attention,” he said. “Listen.”

  She listened.

  Night birds cried out and the cicadas made up a chorus behind the birdsong. Otherwise, it was silent except for the sound of their feet on the path.

  “It’s quiet, but kind of spooky,” she offered.

  “Why is it spooky?” he asked.

  “The way the birds are crying out,” she said. “It sounds like they’re warning us off.”

  He chuckled. “That’s a robin,” he said. “Do you know why he’s singing?”

  “No idea,” she admitted.

  He listened for a moment.

  “He’s looking for a mate,” he told her gruffly.

  Something about this made her smile.

  “I didn’t think robins were nocturnal,” she said.

  “They aren’t,” he replied sadly. “There’s too much light near your mortal cities. It’s thrown him off.”

  “I guess he’s not going to find a date after all,” Miranda said.

  “Not until morning,
most likely,” Bron told her.

  “Well, I hope he finds her then,” Miranda said.

  Suddenly the birdsong wasn’t so creepy.

  “Just a moment,” Bron said.

  She paused.

  He lifted his chin and let out an ethereal whistle in the same key the robin had been singing.

  There was a moment of silence and then another birdcall from the trees.

  A slight breeze and a rustle of feathers later and the King of the Wilds had a bird on his shoulder.

  “It is night time, little friend,” Bron told the creature softly.

  The bird cocked his head.

  “Rest now, find your mate in the morning,” Bron said.

  The robin chirruped out a low note and fluttered into a nearby tree.

  “Now he’s got it,” Bron said with a smile. “Let’s go.”

  Miranda couldn’t reply or even move. She was frozen in amazement. This guy was like something out of Disney movie.

  “This is my kingdom,” Bron said simply, as if that explained everything.

  He lifted his hands, palms up, to indicate the forest around them.

  “Such as it is in this realm,” he added with a touch of sadness.

  “We haven’t been kind to the environment,” Miranda said quietly.

  “There is still time to learn,” Bron said as they walked on.

  That smarted.

  She knew acutely that he wasn’t just talking about humans in general. Her own boss was at the forefront of tearing down trees and replacing them with concrete. It was as if he had a vendetta against nature.

  She had sworn not to try to change the minds of this unlikely crew of monster hunters.

  But they had made no such promises about changing hers.

  “One of the realities of modern life is that individuals have fewer rights than corporations,” she said.

  It was an oft-repeated statement, but a true one, and hardly her fault.

  “I have no idea what that means,” Bron said.

  “It means that big corporations, maybe you’d call them merchants, have more rights than people,” she told him. “We can’t always stop them from doing what they want.”

  “We are each responsible for our own actions,” he said coldly. “And if any entity threatens our home and the ones we love, we should burn it to the ground.”