The Castle of Fire and Fable: Luxe paperback

CHAPTER ONE

BLAKE

Allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is Blake Beckett. I was born of the human realm to Colleen and Darren Beckett. I’m the new member of your coven.”

Four pairs of eyes glared back at me like I’d just told them
the world was a giant wedge of cheese. There was Maeve – her beauty radiant even through the crackled marks my spirit magic made across her face. Her three witch boyfriends glowered at me, all fire and brimstone and “burn the outsider.” At least the red-haired one had gone to the garden with the babies – he was more ready than the others to run me through with a blade.

Just my luck, there were a ton of swords hanging conveniently above my head, should any of the others feel the desire.

It would be a damn shame, especially since I hadn’t had a
curry yet.

“Colleen and Darren?” The one they called Corbin asked, his breath throaty from the sleeping draught the guards had forced down him. He scrambled upright, his dark eyes swimming with pain and confusion. That was good. Confusion was better than anger. When these witches were angry, they also got stabby.

“But…the murder suicide…”

I waved a hand. “Is that Daigh covered it up? Very classy.
Make it a bloodbath – that’s the Unseelie way.”

Corbin’s eyes widened. “What are you saying?”

“Daigh took me from my parents before their coven sealed off the gateway. That’s how he managed to get me through – and even then, it cost him much of his power for many years. That’s why I hadn’t been able to leave Tir Na Nog until recently.”

“Haven’t been able to leave, or didn’t want to leave?” demanded the particularly stabby blonde one with arms like tree trunks. I think was Arnold.

I spied a door on the far wall and started inching my way
toward it. Better to be close to an escape route should this conversation continue in an ‘eviscerate Blake’ direction. Although with Daigh’s fae prowling around outside the castle walls, I was probably safer inside with the stabby witches.

“Oh, sure,” I said breezily, meeting Maeve’s eyes and trying to plant the thought in her head that I was trustworthy, that I was telling the truth. Now that she knew what I could do, I wasn’t sure she’d trust her thoughts. “I just love living in a world that’s only five miles square, where the weather never changes, the food will poison me if I eat it, and the inhabitants are like horny teenagers cooped up indoors with nothing to do, only they have magic and a penchant for sticking sharp things into their pet human for shits and giggles. Why would I ever want to leave?”

“You’ve come through the gateway twice before,” Maeve
pointed out in that measured tone of hers. “Once when you took Connor and once when you accosted me in Jane’s bathroom.”

“Even when Daigh was strong enough to send a human
through the gateway again, he didn’t want to send me in case I ran away as soon as my feet hit home soil.” I scuffed the edge of the salt circle with my boot. “Turns out he was right, but I had to pretend he wasn’t. It took me years to earn Daigh’s total trust so he’d send me through.”

Now was probably not the time to tell them I had to betray
my adopted cousin to get the King’s approval finally. I
continued:

“Daigh gave me that assignment and I could not refuse it.
While the sprites were collecting Connor, I was trying to figure out how to get a message to you. I was going to plant something in the red-haired one’s dreams, but you popped out from behind the wall and clobbered me before I had a chance. That’s why I came back the second time.”

“What assignment were you on then?” Maeve demanded.

“Nothing. I knocked out one of the Far Darrigs assigned to the next mission and used a glamour to take his place. That’s why I couldn’t stay in the bathroom and chat. I had to get back before they noticed I was out of formation.”

“Glamour is fae magic,” Arnold spat. “Humans can’t do
that.”

“You can if you’ve spent twenty-one years learning from the fae.” My eyes bore into Maeve’s. “Your coven didn't exactly leave any colour TVs or magazines or record players for me to enjoy in my prison. I didn’t have anything else to do but practice magic.”

“He is really powerful,” Maeve said to the others. “I’ve read about all kinds of spirit magic in one of Corbin’s books, but Blake can do stuff beyond even that. He can speak inside your head and—”

“Yeah, while he was torturing you,” Arnold growled.

“Arthur,” Maeve warned.

His name was Arthur. I probably wouldn’t remember that.

“Wait, what?” Corbin glared at me.

I held up my hands. “I didn’t torture her. She needed to
wake up. All I did was influence her dream to make her see something she wouldn’t want to face. It’s nothing Maeve can’t do herself.”

“Sure.” Maeve ran her hand through her short hair. A streak of pink slashed across her forehead – the color making her hazel eyes appear as rippling pools of deep water. “I crossed through the gateway in my dream, and pulled the guys through after me, but you took things from inside my head. I heard your voice. The book says that only the most powerful spirit users can do that.”

“Exactly,” I sighed. “And Maeve is the Priestess and has no idea what she’s capable of, so now you’ve got two of the most powerful spirit users in your coven. You should be dancing a jig, not interrogating me. Especially since we don’t have time for any of this. The gateway is weakened and Daigh’s fae will be swarming through as fast as they can.” I pointed out the window in the direction of the sidhe. From this vantage point, I could see the castle gardens – bursting with bright flowers and weird statues – stretching down to a small wood. “The first thing we should do is fix that. We have to—”

“There’s no we,” Arnold – no, Arthur – shot at me. “What
you’re telling us is ludicrous. It’s—”

“It’s actually not,” Corbin leaned forward. Maeve’s eyes
darted towards him, and her whole body shifted when he started to speak; a slight shudder echoing through her at the sound of his voice. My mind – still collecting the residue of her deepest thoughts – flooded with happiness that he was alive.

So they have a thing.

Again, not a surprise, given that Maeve’s powers – like my
own – were stimulated by sexual encounters. Corbin was the one all the fae knew, the one who had collected the other
witches, who had kept up the rituals that held the gateway closed for so many years after his parents abandoned the castle, the one who’d dedicated his life to the study of magic. It made perfect sense that they would fall into bed with each other.

That was okay. I wasn’t worried. If I knew one thing about
spirit magic (and I knew a lot of things) it was that one person – even if they were another powerful magic user – was never going to be enough to satisfy Maeve’s hunger.

But two spirit users…that would be even more delicious
than a curry.

That Corbin was still talking. He liked the sound of his own voice. I had a feeling I’d have to get used to that. “—know that any child of the Becketts would be a spirit user. Remember the damage on Flynn’s face? Rowan said that was a spirit attack. There’s the same pattern on Maeve’s cheek now. And the fact that he’s inside this castle, of course. He couldn’t be here if he was fae. But just because he’s a witch doesn’t mean he’s on our side.”

“He did help us find the babies and escape the fae realm,” Maeve said, her voice like liquid honey.

No. I shook my head. Not honey. I didn’t want to see or smell or taste honey or nectar again as long as I lived. Maeve’s voice was a warm, rich curry on a cold day. Or at least, in my imagination.

“He did that by hurting you!” Arthur yelled. “You were screaming, Maeve. You were terrified. It was the most awful thing I’ve ever heard, and he did that to you.”

“I was dreaming, and he turned the dream into a nightmare so I’d wake myself up. That’s actually quite clever.”

“I am very clever,” I added helpfully. “It’s one of my many talents. I also have sharp aim with a bow, can play a dastardly tune on the fiddle, and I’m a fantastic lover, should any of you need a little help in that area—”

“Absolutely none of those things are useful to us,” Arthur
said.

“I beg to differ.” Maeve looked up at me as she wet her bottom lip. Her eyes flashed with hunger, and liquid magic flowed straight into my dick. Merry me, we’re going to burn this whole bloody castle down when we get together.

“What I don’t get,” Corbin said. “Is how—”

“So much hot air blowing around this room.” I flopped
down on the saggy oversized chair in the middle of the room, kicking up a spray of salt granules. I sank right into the chair, the fabric consuming me. How odd – a chair not made of twig and branches. It was quite comfortable. I’d missed out on so much. “We can deal with the hows and whys and what-the-fucks later. Right now, there’s still the little matter of what our dear Unseelie king said to Maeve.”

I focused on Maeve’s face – which had turned from horny back to serious – once again taking in the beauty of it. She was the very definition of breathtaking with her
heart-shaped face and those haunting eyes. I found myself struggling for air as Daigh’s lineage leapt out to me from her features – the high forehead, the perfect symmetry of her face, the shimmering quality of her skin. But those hazel eyes were nothing like her father’s – there was no cruelty there, no cutting crystal, no malignant joy. Right now they were wide and bright with intelligence and
curiosity.

And desire.

I could sense it from all the way across the room – it flickered against my skin like the heat of a bonfire or the prickle of fear that preceded the ride of the Slaugh. Even though she had her air witch lover, Maeve Crawford – half fae, half witch, all goddess – saw me, and she liked what she saw.

Things were looking up for Blake Beckett.

I was here. In the human world. In an actual room that
wasn’t made of bloody earth.

And…I sniffed the air…was that the scent of actual food
cooking?

Actual hot human food I could eat without dying?

The food smell was coming from down the hallway I could see leading out of the room. My feet carried me across the room without any instruction from my head. Corbin said something behind me, but I didn’t hear a word of it. I sniffed the air, trying to discern where the remarkable smell originated.

My coven hadn’t seemed to have noticed the glorious scent invading the room. They were still discussing their adventures in the fae realm. “What did the Unseelie king say to you?” Corbin asked Maeve.

I tore my eyes from the hallway to look at Maeve again. She continued to study me, of course, because I was much more interesting than the others. “All sorts of things. He killed my parents, but he wasn’t trying to kill me. All these years, I was never in any danger from him. He was biding his time until I came of age, until I gained my powers, and then he planned to kidnap me to the fae realm and have me rule as his successor.”

Corbin’s voice dripped with incredulity. “Why has he chosen you for this dubious honor? And how is he making decisions for all the fae? What about the Seelie Court?”

“Oh right,” Arthur said. “You weren’t there for that bit. The Unseelie king is ruling over all the fae. And he says he’s Maeve’s father.”

“What?” Corbin yelled.

“According to Daigh,” Maeve spat. “He could just be lying. Fae tend to do that.”

She said that last bit glaring at me.

What? When have I ever lied?

Okay, there was that time…and those other times, and there were all those sort of half-truth “you’ll figure-it-out” hints I gave her that must’ve driven her insane…

Maybe a little bit of fae nature had rubbed off on me.

“He wasn’t lying,” I piped up. I was nearly at the hallway
now. The smell swirled in my head. Rich, roasted meat, dripping with sweet fat and fragrant herbs…not a drop of honey tainting its meaty essence…my mouth watered.

A hand fell on my shoulder. “What are you looking at?”

I turned at the sound of that voice, the only thing in the
world more intoxicating than food.

Maeve.

Her lips pursed with concern, but her eyes flamed with lust. The tug of her magic rolled over me, drawing me in, daring me to close the distance between us. I stepped closer, our bodies mere inches apart, the gap between us sizzling with unspoken spells.

My hand flew to her cheek and when our skin touched, lightning danced in my veins, shooting straight through my body into my dick. I bent my head, zeroing in on that gorgeous mouth of hers, the lightning consuming us as our lips touched—

“You,” a voice behind us spat.

Maeve and I flew apart. I whirled around. In the doorway of the room stood a stout, dour-looking woman with greying hair and a serial-killer malevolence in her eyes. Both her hands were covered in oversized quilted mittens. In one mittened hand she clutched a metal dish containing a bone of the most delicious smelling meat I’d ever encountered. Saliva pooled on my tongue and my body swooned with hunger.

In the other hand she held aloft an enormous butcher’s
knife.

“Dora?” Arnold asked, surprise in his voice. “What are you doing here? Your shift finished hours ago.”

“It’s right I came back. You all were lying around, sleeping in the middle of the day when there’s so much to do. You’ve made a mess of this room and is that salt all over the floor? You need me to take care of you. She won’t do it.” The woman they called Dora jabbed the knife in Maeve’s direction. “Look at her, seducing some other hapless boy in your very own home.”

‘Hapless boy’, am I?

Instinctively I moved in front of Maeve, shielding her with my own body. I didn’t really think this woman was going to attack. I’d lived my whole life with fae who relished the causing of pain, and Dora with her frilly apron and frail skin didn’t really fit the stereotype. But she was pissed at Maeve for some reason. And she did have that knife.

“Dora, could you put down the knife? You’re scaring Maeve,” Corbin said in his authoritative voice, that voice he must use whenever he wanted people to follow his instructions.

Dora’s eyes fixed on Maeve. “Spoiled little slut. Too busy fornicating to take care of these boys. She’s turning you all into rotten sinners. You were so distracted by her you nearly burned the roast.”

“It’s fine, Dora,” Rowan stood up from his chair, his soft voice barely audible from across the hall. It was the first time I’d heard the black guy speak. “I’ll take care of the roast now. You can head on home, and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You won’t be seeing me tomorrow.” Dora raised the knife
above her head, her face twisting. “You are all sinners, and you won’t be seeing me ever again.”

I tried to probe her mind, tried to see into her thoughts and figure out who she was and what the hell she was doing in the castle. But something blocked me. It was like hitting a wall in her mind. I only ever hit that wall when another fae was already compelling a person. Their presence blocked me from entering.

Another fae…a flicker of unease probed my mind. I remembered what Daigh had said, that he would send a compelled human into the castle to kill the witches before they woke up. He probably didn’t know they were already awake, or maybe he didn’t care.

“Five on one,” I whispered to the woman in fae-tongue, knowing that the fae inside her mind would be able to see and hear me. “This isn’t going to end well for you.”

The woman raised the blade, her eyes glinting with malice as she spoke back in the language only fae spoke. “If I die here, it will be in service to my king. And I’ll be bringing at least one of you with me. Perhaps it will be you, traitor,” she hissed at me, then turned to the others and spoke in English.

“Time to die, witches."

Briarwood Witches
Book 1 - The Castle of Earth and Embers
Book 2 - The Castle of Fire and Fable
Book 3 - The Castle of Water and Woe
Book 4 - The Castle of Wind and Whispers
Book 5 - The Castle of Spirit and Sorrow