35

Violet Miller and the Never-Ending Kiss Attacks

The Yarn Stitch smelled like freshly brewed tea and the muggy moisture from outside seeping in through the cracks. There was no shortage of teapots—they were all around the store wherever they could fit; tucked into shelves around yarn supplies, stacked beneath the front window, spread evenly over the checkout counter…

Violet wasn’t sure what anyone could possibly do with so many teapots.

The rain finally died down. Violet hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her interns for a second over the last hour. She imagined they were at the cathedral, either waiting outside in the downpour, or if the magic of the temperamental cathedral front doors was feeling nice today, maybe the interns had managed to get inside. They were probably trying to call her on the phone she didn’t have. Probably wondering why both days they’d shown up for work so far had been weird.

But more than that, she worried about Mor. Shame on her for it—she couldn’t shake off what Freida had said. “…he is absolutely in over his head. He will die soon. And likely, he will die terribly.”

She could barely breathe past the ache in her chest. She’d never felt more helpless, more angry. More desperate to run into a dangerous situation she didn’t belong in, where no one wanted her.

Violet sat at the coffee table picking at a macaron, dissecting its fluff and icing. Her plate was on the corner of the table—the only space left that wasn’t being occupied by Gretchen’s sprawled body. Violet wondered why the knitters didn’t put Gretchen on a bed somewhere. It seemed mean to leave her out in the open like this. The woman’s mouth was hanging open and everything.

Every few seconds, Violet looked back at the front door. There never seemed to be a decent time to try and sneak out, and even if she did, she had a feeling these women took their job of guardians seriously. She’d probably be followed and dragged back.

She wouldn’t go running to Mor, even if she was worried. She just wanted to meet her interns.

Violet sighed, rubbing her tense forehead. There were only so many conversations she could listen to about “Glenda” from the moped place who wouldn’t give the knitting club a deal on mopeds, and the newest in-trend knitting pattern, and how long it would take the “barista-assassins” across the road to get fat from all the pudding they eat, and how much longer until Kate Kole’s wedding.

Violet dug her fingers into her hair. She couldn’t take it anymore. She stood and turned all in one motion. “Freida, I’m sorry, but I can’t—”

Violet’s words cut off; her vision filled with a mop of metallic-red hair. Luc stood over her, gazing down into her eyes, a strange wildness and anger on his face as he took her in.

One of the knitters screamed, and soon every fairy woman in the store scrambled for their needles. “Don’t touch our human, Shadow Fairy!” one of the women snapped.

Luc cracked a small smile, indicating he intended to do just that.

Violet turned and grabbed the nearest teapot, holding it above her head to whack him with it. But she blanched when she spun back and found cold wind blowing an eerie shadow over the store. Luc kicked the couch to his left, and it struck the two closest women, tipping over and pinning them to the floor.

“I must take her.” He said it almost apologetically. “So, feel free to try and stop me, Sisters.”

Luc grabbed Violet by the waist and vanished.

Violet couldn’t scream in the wind. She couldn’t breathe, let alone make a sound as they swerved around smeared buildings and through things at warp speed.

The world finally formed around her as they came to a stop in an abandoned-looking street. Damp roads glistened beneath the sun breaking from behind the clouds, and tall buildings sheltered them on either side.

An arrow speared past Violet’s shoulder, and she heard a thump.

Luc gasped.

His grip slid off her, and Violet slapped a hand over her mouth. She whirled as he fell flat upon the road, an arrow protruding from his chest. His inhales were ragged, his dark lashes fluttering until his eyes slid closed. It seemed he was no longer breathing. One of the silk fur pendants on his necklace shuddered and turned to dust before Violet’s eyes, the twinkling hairs floating off in the breeze.

Shayne appeared at the end of the road, walking toward them with his crossbow raised, another arrow already loaded, and a satisfied smile across his face. He splashed through the puddles in his bare feet.

“Three down, six to go,” he said.

But Luc’s eyes flashed open.

Violet screamed and sprang back as Luc reached up and tore the arrow from his heart. He stood and yanked Violet to him, pinning her back against his bloody chest and forcing Shayne to stop walking. Dranian inched out of the nearest alley, spear raised, and came to Shayne’s side.

Voilet was sure she could feel Luc’s heart pounding against her back. His breathing was heavier than before.

“Dear Violet.” His voice was sweet and warmer than she expected, though there was a strange urgency he didn’t have before. There was something in it that made her want to put her guard down, that same feeling she got the first time she met him like they were old, trusted friends. He reached around to nudge her face toward his. “Think of me beautifully for a moment.” He pressed his mouth against hers, and Violet’s heart doubled over. She tried to pull away from his kiss at first, but then…

Then…

Luc drew back slowly, the sun glowing behind his scarlet hair, making it burn like a bouquet of flaming gemstones. The silver in his eyes turned to vibrant crystals, gleaming and beckoning her to stare at them forever. She’d never loved a set of eyes so much—why hadn’t she noticed them before?

“Violet.” When Luc said her name, Violet felt warm all over. “Be my shield, would you, dearest? Take an arrow for me?” When he gifted her a smile, his face was perfection; soft, smooth skin, a heart-shaped mouth, and deep lashes unlike anything Violet had ever seen.

“Queensbane,” Dranian muttered. “She’s totally fallen for him like a weak-minded fool.”

Luc turned Violet back toward Shayne and Dranian, holding her tight in front of him. “She has,” he answered. “Luring in prey is what a fox does, didn’t you know?”

“We’ve fairy trapped the street, Foxy,” Shayne said to Luc. “There’s only one place we discovered you frequent—and it’s right here. It’s you against the High Court of the Coffee Bean now.”

Without warning, Dranian threw his spear. Violet screamed as it brushed past her cheek. Luc’s hands disappeared from her waist—he reappeared behind Shayne. Dranian was already spinning, grabbing one of Shayne’s fairsabers from his belt and stabbing toward Luc before Luc could swing at Shayne’s back. Shayne bolted forward and grabbed Violet’s hand, dragging her out of harm’s way as Dranian and Luc swung swords.

Shayne placed Violet against the brick wall of the nearest building. He batted his eyelashes at her a little—it seemed forced. “Queensbane, Mor is going to kill me,” he muttered. Seemingly out of nowhere, he leaned in and gave her a strong, swoon-worthy kiss. Violet gasped as he pulled himself off, leaving behind traces of warmth on her mouth. She blinked away all she’d felt for Luc a moment ago, and she stared at Shayne—at the pure diamond-white of his hair. At his crisp, blue eyes.

“Your hair is… luminous,” she realized.

Shayne grinned. “I know.” He stood a litter taller. “I knew you couldn’t resist liking me a little, Human.” He turned and shouted back at Luc, “You might be powerful, but I don’t need fox magic to attract women!”

Luc threw Dranian down the road, sending the auburn-haired fairy rolling twice over. Shayne’s smile dropped, and he spun back to Violet. “Violet,” he said, and Violet stared, hanging onto his every word. “Run.”

He pushed her toward the alley.

Violet found herself scampering away, but uneasiness grew inside of her with each step she took. She slowed to a stop, looking back at where Shayne raised his crossbow to block a fairsaber blow from Luc. And she realized she didn’t want to leave. How could she leave Shayne when he was in trouble?

But he’d asked her to; it was what he wanted.

Violet almost turned away again when Shayne’s deep cry boomed down the alley. Her flesh tightened—she gawked as Shayne was tossed to the pavement. In the same second, Dranian sprang over him to tackle Luc, and Luc disappeared into thin air. Dranian landed on the road with a thud.

Violet was grabbed. She shrieked as her body was turned. She faced Luc again—was kissed by him, again.

Suddenly she couldn’t remember why she’d been so concerned about Shayne. She stared at Luc as his gaze flickered past her and took in the others. “Dearest Violet,” he said. “Don’t let him kiss you again.” He seemed frustrated.

“I won’t,” she promised with all her might.

But a spear spiralled through the alley and split them apart—Luc pushed her away and the spear sailed between them. Luc reached into his pocket and drew out a small, sparkling red gemstone. Violet eyed it curiously. Trying to remember where she’d seen it before. He placed the gemstone into his mouth and turned to face the fairies moving down the alley toward him.

Shayne darted right while Dranian darted left.

Shayne went for Violet.

Dranian went for Luc.

Shayne reached her. He tried to kiss her, and she slapped him. “Violet,” he said through his teeth like she was being unreasonable. He swatted her hands out of the way as she tried to keep him at bay. But in the end, he won. Shayne puckered up and smacked his fairy lips against hers. Violet stopped struggling, relaxing into his hold. When he released her, she forgot about Luc again.

Shayne grinned.

Dranian growled, an intense shout that boomed down the alley and made the hairs on Violet’s arms stand on end. When she saw why, she screamed.

Luc’s fairsaber protruded from Dranian’s right arm, sprouting right out the bicep.

Luc dragged his wild gaze up to Shayne. “Not a step closer,” he warned, and Shayne’s bare feet went frozen to the ground. Luc’s chest heaved—rage flashing behind his silvery eyes. “For the faeborn record, I didn’t want to do this.” He twisted the blade a little.

Dranian screeched, panting to catch his breath, and Shayne looked like he might scream, too.

“This is enchanted cold iron, fairy-mutt. That means this won’t heal,” Luc said to Dranian from a curled lip. “Now you’re just a three-legged guard dog.”

He tore the blade back out and Dranian roared.

Shayne charged, his fairsaber stabbing into the brick wall after Luc vanished, sending chunks of brick tumbling to the ground. Luc appeared at the end of the alley. He lifted the ruby off his tongue and placed it back in his pocket. Then he blew Violet a kiss and turned to walk away. No one chased after him.

Shayne dropped his weapons and crouched beside Dranian, his blue eyes watery with panic.

“I must kill him now. For my honour,” Dranian rasped in anguish, clutching his useless arm to himself.

“You’ve lost your arm, you fool!” Shayne snarled. “Leave him to me.” He grabbed his crossbow and whirled toward where Luc had gone. But when he jogged to the end of the alley and looked both ways, it seemed there was no sign of the nine tailed fox.

At least, that was how it appeared, until a cold hand grabbed Violet’s arm and she was torn into speeding teleportation. A cruel voice breathed against her neck:

“I’m not finished with you yet, Violet.”