Charmed Vengeance.

by Suzanne Lazear.

For Reina and Rachel.

Thank you for never giving up on me, even when I gave up on myself.

Dim vales-and shadowy floods- And cloudy-looking woods, Whose forms we can't discover For the tears that drip all over!

Huge moons there wax and wane- Again-again-again- Every moment of the night- Forever changing places- And they put out the star-light With the breath from their pale faces.

About twelve by the moon-dial, One more filmy than the rest (A kind which, upon trial, They have found to be the best) Comes down-still down-and down, With its centre on the crown Of a mountain's eminence, While its wide circ.u.mference In easy drapery falls Over hamlets, over halls, Wherever they may be- O'er the strange woods-o'er the sea- Over spirits on the wing- Over every drowsy thing- And buries them up quite In a labyrinth of light- And then, how deep!-O, deep!

Is the pa.s.sion of their sleep.

In the morning they arise, And their moony covering Is soaring in the skies, With the tempests as they toss, Like-almost anything- Or a yellow Albatross.

They use that moon no more For the same end as before- Videlicet, a tent- Which I think extravagant: Its atomies, however, Into a shower dissever, Of which those b.u.t.terflies Of Earth, who seek the skies, And so come down again, (Never-contented things!) Have brought a specimen Upon their quivering wings.

-Edgar Allan Poe, "Fairy-Land"

Prologue.

The Sacrifice.

"Welcome everyone to this special day." High Queen Tiana's voice carried over the crowd. "We gather here, as we always do, to honor the magic. Without it we wouldn't exist, and neither would the Otherworld." She paused and looked at the people a.s.sembled in front of the Lake of Sorrows, basking in the attention. "Like everything else, the magic must be nourished or it grows weak and fades away. We bring nourishment to her as thanks for all she does for us."

In her chair, Charlotte shivered in spite of herself. James stood beside her, squeezing her hand. She gave him a rea.s.suring smile in return. She was ready to go, but the love of her life wasn't as at peace with her decision. At least they'd had this much time together. For that she was grateful. She looked at James and her friends Noli and V. Soon, it would be time.

Certainly, today was a festive occasion and she took comfort that the end of her life was celebratory, not somber. A big arch of greenery, purple and gold flowers, and ribbons had been constructed in front of the Lake of Sorrows at the edge of the wildwood.

"This has been a trying cycle, as it grows harder and harder to find the right mortal girl," the queen continued. "But a girl with the Spark has been found. This mortal girl volunteered to be the sacrifice, offering up her life to preserve all of ours. It gives me hope that there are still young mortals willing to make such a choice." Queen Tiana looked at Charlotte and smiled. It wasn't comforting but triumphant.

Everyone seemed to think so much of the fact she'd volunteered. But she was dying. Since she had the Spark, that extra bit of something some mortals had, why shouldn't her death mean something? She'd rather feed the land, the sentient magic that composed the Otherworld and kept all its citizens alive, than die unwanted and forgotten.

Charlotte looked at Noli, who'd turned away, her face contorting in pain. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get her friend to understand. V pulled Noli to him and she leaned her head against his chest.

"Noli, I chose this," Charlotte whispered. "This way it means something. Remember that, all of you. Take care of him, please?" Charlotte whispered to Noli and V. She prayed James didn't mourn her too long.

"Of course we will." V clapped her shoulder.

Charlotte squeezed Noli's hand. "Live your life. Be with V, go to the university, invent wondrous things, and be a great botanist."

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

"I'll try, I'll try so hard, Lottie." Tears p.r.i.c.ked 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 gra.s.s.

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 p.r.i.c.k 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 gra.s.s 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 gla.s.s of substandard rum and took a drink. Around him the magic shifted with such force rum sloshed over the side of the gla.s.s 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 gla.s.s of rum and drained it, toasting the memory of the redheaded girl who gave her life so Magnolia didn't have to.

And we fairies, that do run.

By the triple Hecate's team,

From the presence of the sun,

Following darkness like a dream.

-William Shakespeare, "A Midsummer-Night's Dream"

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 bra.s.s, and other things, had been carted home by her, V, and James. Each piece held a story. Her hand caressed a piece of bra.s.s 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 always preferable to b.a.l.l.s.

The now-dry skeins of hair went in the basket. She'd weave them into a watch chain for James. This way he could carry a piece of her wherever he went.

Let's prune the roses, the sprite suggested.

It was hard not to sigh. When the queen had taken away Noli's mortality, she'd turned her into a sprite. Well, sort of. V and James had done something, preventing her from losing all of herself during the transformation. However, she was left with the body and abilities of a sprite and a sprite sharing the s.p.a.ce in her head. Calling it awkward was an understatement.

The roses did need pruning, and the beautiful Los Angeles fall day called to her. Later. We have other things to do before Mama returns from the shop. Like washing dishes, fixing the upstairs shutters, and adjusting the steam-powered sewing machine she'd made for her mother to make dressmaking faster.

The sprite mentally pouted. Really, Noli would rather prune roses than wash dishes. Every day it became increasingly difficult to keep the sprite from taking over completely. Some days resisting the sprite grew physically painful. Not to mention being a sprite made some things harder-like thinking.

You think too much, the sprite piped up.

Ugh. She pushed the sprite back into her mental closet. The last thing she wanted was for the sprite to take over-then she'd never get her ch.o.r.es done.

Across the yard, V's window in the Darrow residence next door remained dark. An entire day and V still hadn't returned from the Otherworld. Worry consumed her, especially since she knew why the queen had asked to meet with her best friend and beau. He owed the High Queen a favor, the price of the bargain which had freed Noli from the Otherworld and caused her current sprite predicament. Hopefully, he'd fare well.

Noli climbed down the bent oak, basket on her arm. The soft whirr of a solar-powered hoverboard echoed behind her.

"Very funny, James." As much as she loved to hoverboard, they were one-person conveyances, so legally women couldn't fly them. Since she couldn't afford any more brushes with the law, when James and V went off on their hoverboards, she stayed behind.

Well, most of the time.

"Is James a suitor I need to rough up?" a very different, but still familiar, voice joked.

Noli hopped to the ground and turned just as her brother's hoverboard touched down on the gra.s.s next to her tree. He pulled off his bra.s.s goggles, which were in need of a shine.

"Jeff!" Noli dropped the basket onto the gra.s.s and wrapped her arms around him.

A couple of years ago her older brother, Jeffery, had left Los Angeles to seek his fortune as an aeronaut, flying cargo vessels. Although he never came to visit, he always wrote her letters and sent money home. Despite the fact they could barely pay the bills, her mother wouldn't touch the funds. It made no sense. Finally, V had told her the truth. Jeff wasn't an aeronaut, but an air pirate, which was why her mother refused to use the money.

If there were such things as good air pirates, she'd like to think he was one of them.

"James isn't my suitor." She grinned. Jeff seemed in good health and clean.

"Look at you, all grownup." Goggles still dangled from his fingers. His tan trousers held all sorts of loops and pockets as did his leather vest. "Why does that dress look familiar?"

"Mama remade one of her old walking dresses. She's been trying out ideas on me." She smoothed the blue fabric of the bustled skirt; her mother loved bustles. Noli liked bustles well enough, but didn't love the color. She preferred the greens and browns V liked, but her mother often dressed her in blue because she said it brought out Noli's steel-colored eyes.

Jeff looked around the yard, concern etched on his face. "Is she here?"

"No, she's at the shop." Noli picked up her basket. "Would you like to come inside? I'll make some tea. I'm so excited to see you. What brings you back?"

He tugged on her chestnut braid. "You, actually," he gave her a boyish grin that reminded her of their father. "I also have some business here."

Translation: He was stealing or buying stolen goods. It was probably best to not ask.