Charmed Vengeance

All Noli’s dear and secret dreams. She had so much to live for.

“I’ll try, I’ll try so hard, Lottie.” Tears pricked Noli’s eyes. Noli bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend like you.”

Her friends. Her dear and wondrous friends.

Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw the queen nod to James. Even though her belly should dip, she should feel fear at the idea of dying, she didn’t. Between the injuries from her uncle and the brain tumor, not only had she been in more pain than she’d let her friends know, but she’d made her peace.

She was ready to go.

James gulped—and that wrenched her heart. Bending down, his lips brushed over hers, lingering, his hand cradling the back of her neck.

When he broke his kiss off, he gazed into her eyes. “I love you, Charlotte Wilson.”

“I love you too, James Darrow.” She lost herself in his green eyes. Reaching up, her fingers traced a line up his jaw as she memorized his face. Her love, her savior. If not for him she would have died in an ally in Georgia instead of spending her final days loved, cherished, and the center of attention here in the Otherworld.

The queen cleared her throat and James let out a heavy, defeated sigh which echoed through the oddly quiet clearing. Charlotte nodded to James. Yes, it was time.

Lips pressed together so hard they went white, he pushed her in her chair until they stood in front of the arch with the queen. A tall and lanky man with a permanent leer also lurked nearby. A long knife dangled at his belt, the purple jewels on its hilt winking. The ritual knife. The one that had killed each mortal girl since the sacrifices began.

Still, Charlotte wasn’t afraid. She gazed at the crowd. People jockeyed for position, children on their parents’ shoulders, as they gathered around the arch, the Lake of Sorrows glimmering behind them. Even Ciaran, the dark king, with his band of ruffians had turned out. Air Fae filled the pink skies, the silvery lake splashed as water Fae drew close to watch the ritual that meant they, their land, and their magic, would continue on.

“Thank you everyone,” she told them. “Thank you for the parties and the presents, for giving a girl without the will to live a purpose.” She turned to James, “and thank you, for loving me, for staying with me.” The words thank you meant something in the Otherworld.

“You owe me no debt, Lottie love.” James’ face grew tight as his eyes filled with pain. He stood behind her, gripping her hand. Never would she have been able to do this without him.

“And as it has been, so will it be done—and her blood will spill on the ground, her Spark nourishing the magic.” The queen flung out her hands in a dramatic gesture. The huntsman approached, unsheathing the knife.

Still, she wasn’t afraid. After being abused by her uncle, the harsh life at Findlay House where she’d met Noli, and what had happened before James found her in that ally, she had nothing to fear from a mere knife or the ruffian in gold and purple who wielded it.

Charlotte held out her hand and James helped her rise from the chair into a standing position. Her uncle may have taken away her ability to walk, but she wasn’t about to sit as she was sacrificed. James understood this. His arms wrapped around her in protection, love, and support as she leaned heavily on him and they moved until she stood on the grass.

Tilting her head up, she kissed him one last time, savoring his sweetness. “Remember, James,” she whispered. “The best way to remember me is to live your life— and make sure Noli lives hers as well. I don’t want to be mourned.”

“I’ll keep my promise.” His whisper broke.

“That’s all I ask.” With one last look at her love, at her dear friends Noli and V, her eyes closed. The crowd hushed at the sound of heavy footsteps. James’ arms tightened around her. She felt a prick at her throat and gasped, but it didn’t hurt, and she didn’t open her eyes. Charlotte knew that the huntsman would slit her throat and her blood would spill to the ground, enabling the people of the otherworld to live for seven more years.

“I love you, Charlotte,” James whispered. She felt him lower her to the grass as she grew dizzy and weak. “I love you so much.”

That was all she needed to hear and she drifted off into happy nothingness.

Kevighn Silver slumped over the wooden table he occupied at a seedy air terminal bar. Where was he? Chicago? Atlanta? He wasn’t even sure. Since he’d been exiled from the Otherworld he’d drifted from place to place in the mortal realm, spending most of it drunk, in an opium haze, or in the bed of yet another strange woman. Eventually, he should get a job, since he was nearly out of money. He was a decent gunner. Those were always needed on airships—both the respectable and disreputable sort.

He picked up his glass of substandard rum and took a drink. Around him the magic shifted with such force rum sloshed over the side of the glass onto the scarred wooden table. A shift of this magnitude at this point in time could only mean one thing. The sacrifice was complete. Banishing him hadn’t negated his abilities.

Hopefully the Spark ran strong enough in her to satiate the magic until the next cycle so they didn’t encounter all the problems they’d endured during this one. That redhead had glowed with the Spark, not as brightly as Magnolia, but enough to cause the magic to stabilize.

Magnolia. Was she there in the arms of her earth court prince, watching as the blood drained from her friend?

Yes, Magnolia would be there. Magnolia would cry.

He pounded his fist on the battered table and sighed, raking his hand through his unkempt hair. She should be with him, not that whelp of a prince.

At least she hadn’t been the sacrifice.

Kevighn raised his glass of rum and drained it, toasting the memory of the redheaded girl who gave her life so Magnolia didn’t have to.

One Jeffrey Returns

Moving the basket to her elbow, Magnolia Braddock climbed up the trunk of the crooked oak in her backyard, the familiar bark rough under her hands. In a flurry of blue skirts, she hoisted herself, basket and all, into the tree house her father had helped her and V build so long ago. Her mother didn’t like that Noli, a nearly grown woman of sixteen, spent so much time in it.

Most of the mishmash of the bits and pieces composing the little house, the cogs and gears, discarded wood, pieces of brass, and other things, had been carted home by her, V, and James. Each piece held a story. Her hand caressed a piece of brass she and V had taken from an abandoned building. The tree house was no longer big enough for her to stand in. Memories, especially of her father, comprised this place as much as all the random bits of things. Nearly seven years ago Henry Winston Braddock had disappeared in San Francisco and Noli still clung to the fragile hope that one day he’d return to Los Angeles and they’d be a family once again.

Charlotte’s red braid, which she’d carefully sectioned, wrapped in thread, and boiled, hung from a makeshift line inside the tree house. Here it could dry safely away from her mother’s eyes so she wouldn’t have to explain Charlotte. Mama had no idea the Otherworld existed or that due to an ill-worded bargain Noli wasn’t mortal anymore. She had no idea that if Charlotte hadn’t died Noli would have. Nor did she know how much James mourned her.

Right now her mother toiled in the dress shop dealing with the holiday rush, making gowns for the very people who’d once been their social equals, completely unaware that faeries even existed. All that mattered to her was keeping up with appearances the best she could.

Ever since Noli returned from Findlay House, from her stay in the Otherworld, things had changed. Her mother had decided that since she now looked the lady, her hoyden ways supposedly “cured” by that dreadful school, that she would now become one. That meant a return to the parties, teas, and social events she’d hated even when they’d been moneyed and respected. Fixing cars or working in the garden was