A Faerie Wedding Read online

  Forcing myself up, I moved to the sideboard and poured a black coffee. The moment I took a sip, the caffeine threaded through my veins. Shifters responded to stimulants faster, something I'd never realized until after I made the change for the first time.

  I searched the hallway. Totally clear. Singer must still be upstairs with Rowan. This was probably going to be my only time. "Can I talk to you about something, sir?" I shut the door, leaving it open just a crack, so I could pick up on Singer's footsteps when she returned.

  "Gabe." Richard laughed. "I told you, Richard, or Rich if you like."

  Here we go. You can do this, Gabe. "Yeah, um, Rich. The thing is...I want to ask Singer to marry me. I was hoping for your blessing."

  "You want to do what?" But it wasn't Richard who answered me, it was Singer herself. She stood in the doorway, her black hair drawn up in a messy pony tail.

  "Honey, I'm talking to your Dad, here. Can you give us a minute?" I sounded like an idiot. Plus, she hated when I called her honey. I hated when I called her honey.

  A scowl morphed her face from shocked to pissed. I'd said the wrong thing. "No. Because you're not going to ask me, so it doesn't matter what Dad has to say."

  What? What did she mean? "But you said we were supposed to be together."

  "Be together, yes. Get married? No."

  Her words were ninjas attacking me. I'd always thought ninjas were cool. Now, I wasn't so sure.

  "So what...you just want to..." I scrambled for the right words, but could only come up with the ones Grandma Stewart used to use before she died. "Live in sin?"

  Richard snorted. Now I knew where Singer got that trait from. "Sing, honey..." So Rich can call her honey? Nice. "...aren't you being a bit hard on the boy? He obviously loves you."

  Singer stiffened. "It doesn't matter. I'm not getting married. Not to Gabe. Not to anyone." She turned and ran out of the room. The door banged shut behind her as she ran outside.

  No. Singer. I didn't think about what I was doing. I ran after her, punching the door open with my fist, letting it slam closed behind me.

  Outside, I scanned the grounds. My shifter eyes adjusted to the dark quickly. Hopefully, Singer hadn't shifted. The last time I pissed her off she'd given me a nasty scratch. No need for a repeat.

  Her dark hair and black dress blended in with the night. I almost missed her, but then I backtracked and caught sight of her pale skin. She leaned against the trunk of a tall oak tree. The moon peeked out from under the clouds, bathing her in her own Singer spotlight. With each step, my heart slammed harder into my chest.

  "I thought I could do this, Gabe." I almost didn't hear her. When I finally made sense of her words, I wished I hadn't. "I don't think I can."

  "What 'this' are you talking about? Visiting your parents? Wearing a dress?" Normally, she would have laughed at my jokes. Sometimes she was the only one who did, but that was the way it was supposed to be with someone who loved you, right?

  But she didn't laugh. Didn't even crack a smile. That told me more than anything she'd said so far.

  "I thought I could stay with you. I can't." Tears streamed down her face. "I don't love you. I never have."

  "You're lying, Singer. Why are you lying to me?" I had a right to be confident. After all, how could something so perfect be wrong? How could she possibly fake loving me? I'd seen it in everything she did. Even in the subtle changes that took her over.

  "I'm not, Gabe. I–I'm messed up. You know what children of rock stars are like. I'm...I lied."

  But you said we were soul mates. I thought the words, knowing she'd hear them.

  She only stared at me instead. "Say something, Gabe."

  "You didn't hear what I just thought?"

  "No."

  "You're lying."

  Singer, please. Tell me you can hear me.

  Her blank stare served up her answer.

  She couldn't hear me anymore. Did that mean things had changed? That Singer was no longer my soul-mate? How was that possible?

  "You really can't hear me?"

  She shook her head like we were in slo-mo. Every shake brought more of the pieces of my life crumbling down around me.

  Something inside of me broke. I thought of all of those years growing up with my parents. They loved each other so much, it came across in everything they did. What if I never had that with Singer? With anyone?

  My throat closed up on me, my face burned. Only a couple of hours ago, I had everything. Now, I had nothing.

  "Then I guess we have nothing left to say, Singer. I'm sorry." I lied. There were a million and one other things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t bring myself to. Gritting my teeth, I turned my back on her. On the life I should have had. "You don't know how much I wish I could have been the right one for you."

  "Me, too," she said, her words shaky.

  That was it. The final nail on my coffin. Singer probably wanted a lot of things, but I wasn't one of them.

  I had to get out of there. I needed to shift. Heat pooled in my gut. My long limbs went limp for a moment, changing shape. And then I shot into the sky as I shed the rest of my human appearance.

  If only, I could have done the same for the ache in my heart.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Fight

  Singer didn't love me. It was over between us. I tried to banish her from my mind as I pushed into super-sonic mode. But could anything really erase her from my head?

  Flying was my only escape. It was way easier to let instinct take over than deal.

  A prickly sort of feeling ran down my spine. Protectors. Two of them. Great. Because I really needed this shit after the evening I'd had.

  Every Protector shifts into a different type of bird. Today, a large pelican, twenty times the size any normal pelican would ever be, flew up beside me.

  Ghárda had been recognizable to me from the moment I'd made the first shift. Not only because he was my birth father, but because he was the leader of all Protectors.

  And the dad who raised me, Michael Stewart, wasn't like me at all.

  Father. Can we not do whatever this is now? I've had a really bad night.

  "What are you doing, Gabe?" Ghárda had actually spoken the question and skipped the telepathy.

  I kept my eyes trained straight ahead. "Getting dumped. Nice of you to show up. What, three months later?" Ghárda had been M.I.A. since, we'd fought together. Since, I'd almost died. Since, I found out I could shift from a human into a giant crane.

  A second bird slid into place on my other side. I recognized it from the Battle of Dublin. Ghárda's second in command. It was a lot smaller than Ghárda, with honey-colored feathers that ruffled in the wind.

  "Gabriel. That's no way to speak to your father."

  What the hell? The brown bird had Mom's voice. Shit. I sucked in a breath and blinked.

  Rock. Rocks in front of me. Gray, sharp, this was going to hurt.

  With nowhere to go on either side, I veered straight up into the air, shooting higher, until I could see nothing but clouds. The wind streaked through my feathers, buoying me upward. I slowed. Ghárda and Mom were right with me.

  "I'm sorry to do this to you, Gabriel, but you won't come home, won't return any of my calls." I could hear the strain in her voice. Mom's voice coming out of this bird?

  What was this? Was I finally losing it? "Not here." I shook my head, and turned, heading for the woods below, skimming the tops of the snow-covered pines. I shifted the moment before I touched down.

  "Gabriel." Mom came into focus. Not shifter mom, but my mom. The mom who'd waited for me at the bus stop, read me stories, burned me cookies...

  "You're a shifter? How could you keep this from me? How could you?" I asked.

  "I told you he'd react this way." An old man walked into view. I recognized Ghárda by his voice, though I'd never seen him in human form.

  Mom rolled her eyes. "I hate I told you sos, Father. Everybody does."

  I stared at the stranger I'd once though
t of as Mom. "What the hell's going on? I thought Ghárda was my father."

  "He is," Mom said, wringing her hands together.

  "But the only way he could be your father, too, is if you're my..." I couldn't say the word. Couldn't imagine it.

  "Sister. I'm your sister." She reached for my arm and I flinched. "Gabe, I'm sorry. I had to do what was best."

  "I don't understand. When I changed, I learned I'd been given to a family who'd lost a son, to ease their pain. As a replacement." I searched out Ghárda, knowing he was responsible for providing me with this info in the first place.

  "Do you want to tell him, or should I?" Ghárda asked.

  "I'll do it," Mom said. "The part about being given to a family who lost a child, that's true. Your adoptive father... Michael, and I, lost a child. You were born to my mother and father the next day."

  She paced, wringing her hands like she was playing one of those rubber band games. "I was always supposed to raise you, because we knew you'd be assigned to a boy born into the mortal world. I'd chosen to live as a mortal when I fell in love with Michael, so it seemed like the perfect solution.

  "When you came to live with us, Kellen hadn't even been born yet. Even though I'd lost my boy, I kept my promise. You were never a replacement, Gabe. I love you." Tears filled her eyes. Mom never cried. Except that one day of the year, the day before I was born. It was all starting to fit now.

  "But you could have told me. Why'd you keep this from me? Why? Did you think I didn't need to know my own mother was a Shifter?" What would Singer think about this? That's right. Singer didn't care, would never know. That made this scenario extra-crappy. Squared.

  "Gabriel, I kept the secret to protect you as long as I could." Mom reached for my hand. "I was only trying to do what I thought was best for you."

  I jerked my hand back. "Do you know I haven't called you, because I didn't want you to know what a freak I was? I didn't want you to be..." I shook my head. I couldn't talk about this. I needed to go.

  "What?" Mom took a step closer.

  I glanced down into her unlined face. I'd always thought she'd looked young. Now, I understood why. Protectors didn't age the way humans did. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me."

  "Oh, Gabe." Mom grabbed for my hand again. This time I let her take it. "I could never be afraid of you, could never be ashamed of you for anything."

  "There are more things you must share with him, Ella." Ghárda's voice cut into the moment.

  A look of annoyance flashed across her face as she scowled at Ghárda. When she turned back to me the expression vanished. "You must know by now...that you don't know everything about yourself. That there are pieces of your memory missing."

  What the hell? "Let me guess. You guys did that, too?" I asked.

  "Father didn't want me to modify your memory, but I was afraid you'd shift too early. The signs were there. So, I hid things from you, your memories." She wrapped her arms around herself, again. I could remember her in this pose so many times...when she'd been in her study painting, working away with a paint-splattered kerchief on her head.

  "You did what?" My brain churned, those patches of time I felt like I'd lost. She knew about them. And, she not only knew about them, but she'd taken them from me.

  But she didn't answer, she only touched my forehead. "Remember."

  My vision blurred. Light blinded me for a moment and the memories flooded back.

  Ghárda carrying me to Mom's house as a baby.

  Images of Kellen as a child.

  Thinking I'd had like, romantic feelings for Kellen and spazzing over what my dreams meant.

  Sneaking into Kellen's room at night and speaking words in Gaelic over his bed.

  Arawn–I'd seen Arawn as a child and hadn't known it.

  Kellen's school.

  Faeries outside of K's bedroom window.

  Countless visits to check in on him that I didn't even remember.

  And Mom wasn't my mom. My real mother, was called Aine.

  Then, just as suddenly as they began, the memories ended their replay and Mom's face came back into focus, her eyes red-rimmed.

  "Where's Aine?" I asked. Staring down the one person I'd thought I could trust above all others.

  More hand wringing from Ella. "Mother died. In the Battle of Dublin."

  My gut churned. I couldn't even deal.

  "Gabe," Ghárda said.

  "Save it. You could have told me the truth, could have done something. Instead, you manipulated me like some sort of–of creation." I was tired of being shit on. I choked back my anger as I forced down images of Singer. I shook my head. "Stay away from me–both of you."

  Before either of them could respond, I shifted and propelled myself into the air. I didn't know if I was relieved they didn't follow or devastated. Between the double-whammy of getting dumped by Singer and my sister's lies, I had no idea where to turn next. It was the end of the world.

  The end of my world.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Dumped

  Two Weeks Later

  My temples pounded way hard. Too much for me to sleep, but not hard enough for me to block out my memories. An awesome aroma pricked at my nostrils. Coffee? Singer came back!

  My eyes flew open and I jumped to my feet, almost knocking over K, who stood at the side of my bed holding a paper coffee cup. Disappointment whacked me back onto mattress.

  Not Singer.

  And, to make the situation more sucky, since K was holding the coffee, it was for him, not me. Dude had a caffeine addiction.

  He raised an eyebrow–classic K. "So you sleep buck naked now? Thanks for saving that for after college."

  "Dude, what are you doing here?"

  If I'd passed this guy on the street, I'd never have known he was the immortal Prince of Faerie. He seemed like a normal guy. Of course, since he and Calienta had gotten hitched, he'd cropped his brown hair shorter and dressed better. He was still K, though, with those same weird green eyes that always saw through all my B.S. It didn't hurt that he had the ability to scan people's emotions.

  I reached for a pair of sweats and yanked them on. Normally, I didn't get cold, but this morning, I shivered. Maybe Singer had been the one keeping me warm all along?

  "Is there any reason you haven't been answering my mind messages? I texted, too." K offered me the coffee.

  "Oh, thank God." I snatched it from his hands, chugging the first scalding gulp. Sweet caffeine. "I guess Cali taught you to share."

  K shrugged, and tossed a pair of dirty underwear aside before he plopped onto the only chair in the room. "Where were you last night, man? Heck for the last two weeks?"

  I blinked. "Two weeks? God." What was I doing? I didn't even check on you. "Were you okay?" I split my questions between telepathy and speaking. Something K and I did most of the time.

  I was fine. I am fine. "I heard about Singer. I'm sorry."

  I grunted my response.

  K raised his eyebrows. "So where were you?"

  "I went flying."

  "Where?"

  "Over Australia."

  "Ouch. You've never flown that far before."

  I shook my head. "It was stupid. I didn't even rest once I got there. Just hung out on a beach in Sydney."

  "And did what?"

  "Tried to pick up girls."

  "You suck at picking up girls."

  "Why do you think I'm here and not in the land down under?"

  "You should just not be single."

  "I know. I should be with Singer." So much for that. I pulled on a hoodie, then chugged more coffee. "Let's go get some breakfast. I can't think on an empty stomach."

  K narrowed his eyes. "It's one-thirty in the afternoon."

  "There's never a bad time for a waffle, K. Seriously, you should know this about me."

  About ten minutes later, we were seated in a back booth at Jimmy's. I'd ordered the Farmer's Breakfast. A big Belgian waffle and a ton of meat: bacon, sausage, the works. K just got a c
offee. While we waited for my food, I clued him in on Singer and my Mom–about everything.

  "So about Singer..." K sipped his coffee, waiting.

  I couldn't even think about her. "Next."

  "Your mom?"

  "Next."

  He eyed me over the rim of his cup. "You look like crap. When was the last time you visited Faerie?"

  I laughed, a sort of grim laugh which sounded like it belonged to somebody else. "About three weeks ago or something like that. With Singer."

  "You need to go back, Gabe. Even if it's just to recharge your batteries. We aren't supposed to be in the mortal world more than a week at a time."

  "I don't care if I go back there. Ever."

  He leaned over the table and whispered. "You know the consequences. You could have been seriously injured in flight."

  "I'm immortal."

  "You can still get hurt."

  He was right. I needed to go to Faerie. That didn't mean I wanted to.

  "And what about law school?"

  "Why go? I'm probably only enrolled because of something Mom or Ghárda did. It's not like I belong there."

  "Look, all of this sucks. I couldn't agree more. If you don't want to be at Harvard then don't be, but you do belong in Faerie."

  "What are you talking about? They don't give a crap about me, either." Wow. When did I start sounding like I was hosting my own pity party?

  K's eyes were fixed in my direction. "There's a job for you there, if you want it. Dad and I want the Protectors to take over as members of the Faerie High Council—a new form of government Dad's been working on."

  I glanced across the table at K. Had he realized he'd bent his spoon into a figure eight? Maybe a nervous habit?

  "I have a job, K. I'm supposed to protect you."

  "I want you to stop being my Protector."

  With that one line, the world suddenly turned into one large drain and I'd started spiraling downward. "WTH? Are you freaking out of your mind, K?"

  "Did you feel the urge to go looking for me the last couple weeks? Or when you were in Australia?"

  I considered his words. "No. That doesn't mean anything, though."

  "I think it means something."

  The waitress came over then. "Here you go, sweetie. One Farmer's Breakfast." I glanced up and gave her a weak smile, which she returned. "And there's a little something extra in the biscuit for you." She winked as she walked away, glancing back one more time before she ducked into the back.