17. Flynn

My legs shook so badly I could barely hold myself up. Maeve had to drag me back to the castle. Whatever that Blake character did to me, it was fucking wretched. I didn’t even have the energy to make a joke about shags.

The whole encounter weighed on me as Maeve wrenched and jerked my pain-filled body toward Briarwood. Nothing made sense. Seelie and Unseelie were there together, and they were both working to steal that baby. Blake seemed incredibly powerful, but who – or what – was he? We knew all of the Unseelie princes by name, so why had we never heard of him before?

And where the fecking hell were the others? Corbin could usually sense when one of the coven was in danger. Why hadn’t he come?

Maeve dragged me past the walled kitchen garden and in through the buttery door. Rowan glanced up in shock, dropping a tray of bread on the floor. “Wipe your feet!” he yelled.

“Rowan, get the others.” Maeve dragged me into the kitchen. “Flynn’s been attacked!”

As soon as Rowan’s eyes met mine, he registered that something was wrong. He darted up the hidden staircase, calling out for Arthur and Corbin, but there was no answer. He dashed outside, calling at the top of his lungs.

Maeve pulled out a seat at the butcher’s block and poured me into it. I grabbed the edge of the bench to steady myself, gritting my teeth at the fresh wave of pain. I hadn’t been this buggered since that time Corbin decided we should all run a half-marathon to get fit for battling fae and I’d stopped at the pub halfway through to re-fuel before trying to finish it.

“Hey, no fair,” I murmured as I started to slide off the edge of the stool. “You stuck me on a chair made of jelly.”

“Jell-O,” Maeve whispered as she wrapped her arms around me and hefted me up again. “It’s pronounced ‘Jell-O.’”

I let out a laugh that made my ribs ache. “Don’t make me laugh, woman. I think I’ve just pushed a rib through my spleen.”

“Shite, Flynn.” That was Rowan. He skidded back into the kitchen. I could feel his hand on my face. “I found the others. They were down in the meadow, fending off a fae attack of their own. What happened? Who did this to you?”

“Blake,” I whispered. That was all the description I was capable of. My eyes fluttered shut and much as I tried to pry them open, they were definitely stuck that way.

“Who’s Blake?”

Mother Mary.Maeve was leaning over me. I could get a glimpse down her shirt if only my eyes would work.

What the hell did Blake do to me?

“Apparently he’s a new Unseelie prince,” Maeve said matter-of-factly. “We were by the sidhe meadow behind the castle. These two Seelie fae were stealing a baby, and Flynn tried to stop them. Blake showed up and he grabbed Flynn’s head and kind of shook him and there was this smell like candy apples and he did that to Flynn’s face.”

“My precious face,” I moaned.

“Hold on.” Rowan clattered around the kitchen, slamming glass bottles and containers down on the butcher’s block. “Keep him still.”

More footsteps clattered into the room. “What did Flynn do now?” Corbin yelled.

Figures he’d assume this disaster was my fault.

Usually, disasters were my fault. But still.

“He was trying to save an innocent child from the fae and they did this to him.” Maeve shot back. “And if you want to do something useful instead of standing there like an idiot, you’ll come here and help me hold him.”

I cheered inwardly. Maeve had spunk. No one talked to Corbin like that. But sure enough, his hands slid around my middle, and his thick chest replaced Maeve’s busty one. Not nearly as pleasant, but definitely sturdier.

“Hold on, mate.” Corbin whispered in my ear. “We’ll put you right.”

Rowan was crushing something with his mortar and pestle. “This isn’t any fae magic I’ve seen before,” he whispered. “ It looks like a spirit attack.”

“That’s what I’m seeing,” Arthur said. He leaned close and I could smell his meady breath on my face. “My mother described a spirit attack in her diary, and she said it left marks like these.”

“But the fae don’t have spirit magic. They can’t manipulate the elements the way we can,” Corbin said. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Unless this new surge of power they’ve got has somehow given them that ability,” Arthur said. “You’re the historian, Corbin. Have you ever read anything about this?”

“Not that I can remember, but I’ll hit the books again today and?—”

“Aragorn’s beard is tickling me,” I croaked out.

“Guys, give him some space.” Maeve’s voice cut through like birdsong over a nest of wasps. Just her presence calmed the pounding in my head. Instead of feeling as though I’d been knocked about the a giant sledgehammer, with Maeve’s hand on my shoulder, the sledgehammer only felt medium-sized.

“Hold still,” Rowan swiped something wet and gritty across my cheeks. “This may sting a little.”

“Bah, you English can’t handle pain. My superior Irish blood has withstood decades of bloody oppression. I can handle a little sting—” Okay, maybe that wasn’t a little sting. Maybe it was a fucking huge sting. Maybe it felt like my face was being eaten by acid.

Blinding pain seared across my vision. I gritted my teeth.

“That’s one way to shut him up,” Corbin smirked. Bastard.

My hands flailed to hold something. Maeve slipped her fingers in mine, and the warmth of her skin radiated through my arm, reaching right up through my neck and into my face, rolling over the fire in my skin and taking away some of the heat. She squeezed my fingers and I squeezed hers back.

“I hope this works.” Rowan said, his voice worried.

“You how what works? What the fecking hell have you done to me?” I managed to choke out.

He didn’t have to sound so fecking uncertain.

A few moments later, the sting faded a little, and I managed to regain some function in my face. I found I could move the muscles in my mouth enough to twist them up into a semblance of a smile. I tried to blink, and found that my eyelids worked again.

Light flooded me as the kitchen came into view. Four concerned faces stared down at me.

“How do I look?” I croaked out. I raised my hand to my cheek, feeling the gritty paste on my skin.

“You look shite,” Corbin said.

“Like a creature from the black lagoon,” Arthur added.

“I think it’s an improvement,” Corbin said.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Maeve wrapped her arms around me, pressing her head into my shoulder. I reached up and rubbed her back, my hand gliding over the strap of her bra and instantly sending my thoughts to a bad place.

Mother Mary.

“I’ve never been better.” I turned to Rowan. “How long until I completely heal? I can’t rely solely on my charm and good graces to pull in the ladies.” One particular lady, I thought but didn’t say.

He shrugged and stared at the floor. “I don’t knew. I’ve used the standard healing potion for spirit attacks. It seems to be working, but I have no idea what the properties of this new fae magic actually are.” He sucked in a couple of deep breaths and counted something under his breath for a few moments before continuing. This was probably the most words he’d ever spoken at once since I met him four years ago. “If this were a standard spirit attack from another witch, it would take a few days for the signs on your skin to fade, and of course, your mind will be pretty weak and vulnerable?—”

“So no different than normal, then?” Arthur grinned.

I stuck my tongue out at him. “This is the thanks I get for trying to be chivalrous.”

Corbin sighed. “Now that we’ve got Flynn back, can we get the full story of what happened?”

I started to tell them about taking Maeve to see the sidhe, but my head throbbed and I found myself unable to think of the right words. I collapsed back against Maeve’s arms while she finished the story, carefully describing the scene with a scientific level of detail.

“So it’s confirmed, then.” Arthur said as she finished her description of clonking Blake over the head with that shovel. “We have one bad-ass babe on our side.”

“I was damn lucky that shovel was there, and I still didn’t manage to save that poor baby. How could they take it, anyway? I thought you said humans couldn’t pass through the barrier between worlds?”

“Today is confirmation that’s no longer the case. But we don’t know how or why—” Corbin’s face lit up with that stupid look he gets when he discovers some dumb fact in a history book and has to share it with the rest of us.

“What?” Arthur demanded.

“To the library!” I cried, in my best Batman impersonation. Corbin was already running for the hall. Maeve helped me down from the stool, and I leaned on her and Arthur as we trudged down the wide hallway. Rowan shuffled along at the rear.

By the time we entered the library, Corbin was already throwing books and newspapers around, mumbling under his breath. I wanted to tell him that if he couldn’t find what he was looking for, it was because his filing system was shite (Corbin was rather proud of his filing system), but the walk down the hallway had exhausted me so much I was struggling for every breath.

“Ah-hah!” Corbin held up a section of the local newspaper, his cheeks flushed with triumph. “I knew I’d seen something. Look at this.” He laid the paper out on the coffee table, holding down the corners with little brass weights like a complete twat. We all leaned in.

“Do you mean, ‘half price vibration machines? Vibrate the pounds away! Call Helen Wilde in Argleton for a demonstration.’” I pointed to an ad in the top left corner. “Because honestly, I didn’t want to say anything, but you’re looking a little hefty around the middle. Too many of Rowan’s mutton pies?—”

“I think I liked Flynn better when he was in too much pain to talk,” Arthur said.

“Just a modicum of seriousness while we do this would be appreciated, Flynn.” Corbin jabbed his finger at an article in the middle of the page – a local mother appealing to anyone who had news about her missing baby. Apparently, the child had been kidnapped from its crib in the middle of the night.

“This was two weeks ago,” Corbin said. “I hadn’t connected it to any fae activity because I had no idea they were powerful enough to kidnap children again. But now that a second child has been taken, I think it’s a pattern. This last time they did this was centuries ago, when the Briarwood coven was particularly weak?—”

“If the fae have taken two babies, what does that mean?” Maeve asked. “What are they going to do to them?”

“It means that they’re more powerful than we thought,” Corbin frowned. “As to what they’ll do, we don’t know. That’s what we need to find out. My guess is that they want the children for some kind of spell. The fae were known for stealing infants to raise as their own – they didn’t usually kill them. If we want to get these children back, we need to find the fifth.” He said this last bit with a pointed look at me.

“The fifth?” Maeve looked confused.

Shite, Corbin, is that how you’re going to tell her? That’s an…interesting angle, mate.

“Covens can have as many people as they want, but certain numbers make for stronger magic,” Arthur said, exchanging a look with Corbin. Behind them, Rowan shifted uncomfortably and stared at a spot on the bookshelf. “When my parents were in the Briarwood coven, there were eleven members. We’re supposed to have at least five people in our coven, each one specializing in a different element. We need a wielder of each element to complete our circle and work complex spells. We need a fifth witch to have access to all the elements.”

Maeve pointed around the room, her finger landing on Rowan, Arthur, Corbin, and then me. “Earth, Fire, Air, Water…seems like you’re all set to me.”

“Don’t forget the fifth element,” I croaked. “Spirit.”

Maeve sighed. “I was hoping you’d forgotten about that.”

“Just because your science books don’t talk about spirit, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.” I rubbed my cheek. “According to Rowan, it was spirit that marred my beautiful skin.”

Maeve collapsed into the chesterfield beside me, rubbing her temple. “So you’re telling me there is some mythical fifth element that can melt people’s brains?”

“My brain isn’t melted,” I cried. “It’s just a little bollocksed up.”

“We don’t know all the details about exactly what spirit can do,” Corbin said. “There aren’t that many spirit users around. Elemental magic is passed down genetically, and spirit users tend to be the witches who get burned at the stake. Some spirit users can speak to the dead, some see the future, others poke around in people’s heads and alter their thoughts or visit their memories or dreams, which was probably what this Blake fairy was trying to do to Flynn.”

“Your mother was a spirit user,” I piped up.

Corbin shot me a look, but I ignored it. I have a Phd in ignoring Corbin.

“My mother?” Maeve shook her head. “My mother wasn’t a witch.”

“Do you know that for a fact?”

“Flynn’s fooling around,” Corbin said quickly. “You can’t believe anything he says.”

The relief on Maeve’s face made my heart sink. Maybe Corbin had a point about her. She was dealing with this whole fae thing pretty well, but that was entirely different from finding out that she wasn’t what she thought she was.

Maeve’s fingers gripped the arm of the sofa so hard that her knuckles turned white. “I was literally just figuring out how to resolve this whole fae realm thing using theoretical physics, and now you tell me there’s a mysterious fifth element that certain people can manipulate? When it rains, it bloody pours with you lot.”

I laughed at her use of the word bloody. “Be careful, love. We’ll turn you into one of us.”

If only she knew how true that was.

“If that means I get to eat jam scones every morning, then count me in.” Maeve let go of the sofa and took a few steadying breaths. “So you just need to find this fifth magic user and then you’ll be able to close the wormhole—I mean, the gateway? But shouldn’t this spirit user be the son or daughter of the last member of the coven? Can’t you just look them up on Facebook?”

“It’s not as easy as that. Many of the witches in the last coven are dead.” Corbin looked nervous. I glanced at Rowan, who still stared at the bookshelf, his lips moving as he counted the volumes along the shelves. “I was lucky – my parents taught me about magic and showed me how to control my powers. But the other guys grew up being forced to suppress their abilities, or not even knowing their magic existed. I spent most of my adult life searching for them and helping them control their powers.”

“We haven’t always been easy to find,” Arthur said.

I was pleased when he didn’t elaborate.

“Finding our fifth is proving particularly difficult,” Corbin said, rubbing his shoulder where the fae attacked him the other day. “Both their parents were members of the Briarwood coven, but they died twenty-one years ago and their infant son vanished. There’s no record or sighting of them since. I keep an eye out for news reports across the world that might suggest an unintentional use of spirit magic, but so far, nothing I can connect to our fifth. But perhaps it’s time to renew the search—Maeve, what’s wrong?” He broke off as Maeve bent over the table, carefully studying the article with a weird expression on her face.

“I just thought of something,” she said. “Could that Blake guy have actually been human?”

Corbin shook his head. “You said he came out of the sidhe. Humans cannot cross over into the fae realm, so there’s no way.”

“But we saw them take the baby back with them, so they must be able to now. Maybe that’s why you never saw this guy before – maybe he’s been in the fae realm all along, but he couldn’t come through the gateway.” She wet her gorgeous lips with her tongue. “That would explain why he had this… spirit power. He’s actually a human with elemental magic living in the fae realm.”

“That’s…” Corbin looked completely flummoxed, which I had to admit was a very good look on him.

“And it explains how I was able to hurt him!” Maeve exclaimed. “A hit with that shovel probably wouldn’t have touched a fae, not with the speed they move. But Blake went down like a sack of potatoes.”

“Fiddle-de-dee,” I sang, which was my standard response whenever someone brought up potatoes. My head pounded, and a wave of exhaustion swept over me. Battling the fae and having my brain probed sure did a number on my virile, manly body.

“It makes sense, but it also doesn’t make sense,” Arthur said. “You said the fae referred to him as a prince. If he’s an Unseelie prince, how could he be human?”

Corbin went to a bookshelf and started pulling books down. “We’re already dealing with something highly unusual – the increase in fae numbers, the baby-stealing, and now the Seelie and Unseelie working together. A human fae prince could be completely plausible. We need more research…”

Corbin’s voice faded into the background as my head throbbed. I leaned against Maeve’s shoulder, my ear pressed against her neck. Her blood pulsed, the beat of it steady and reassuring.

I breathed in her light, fruity scent. Not only was she insanely hot with all those curves, but she saved my life today, and made a joke about Jell-O. She was basically perfect. Total girlfriend material.

Pity I was a useless boyfriend. Flirting and shagging and joking around I could do – in fact, I was the boss of those things. But Maeve’s grief was fresh and raw and written all over her face, even as she dealt with all this fae bollocks we kept throwing at her.

She needed someone who could dig deep inside her and heal that grief. And that wasn’t me. It would never be me.

I couldn’t touch pain like that without falling off the edge myself.

But Blessed Virgin Mother Mary she had me all tied up in knots. Those pouty lips, that short haircut with the vibrant pink streak, the satisfied look on her face when she clonked Blake with that spade…Maeve Moore was pure fire.

Her dark eyes flicked to mine, and her hand rested against one of her full tits, and I imagined those tits free, her nipples hardening in my mouth. My dick strained against my jeans, and that made my head spin, and the whole effect was like the best kind of inebriation mixed with the worst kind of hangover.

The magic acting on Briarwood drew me toward Maeve, but if that was all it was, I’d step back and let one of the other guys have her. That would be the best solution.

But Maeve was special, and the idea of giving up the chance of shagging her to a bunch of Englishmen didn’t sit well with me. This was winner takes all – and Maeve was one hell of a prize.

Plus, I didn’t like losing to the other guys. Corbin I could live with – he was Mr. Bloody Perfect, after all – but Arthur? No fecking way.

We were getting closer to D-day – the day Maeve found out who she truly was, and the day she’d have to choose among us.

And even though I knew it was a bloody stupid idea, I was going to do whatever I could to make sure she chose me.