Lucky Me, page 4
I sighed. “Go back to your booth, River. I am going to drive this sleigh into the town square, and then I’m going to come back here, drink this chocolate, and cry on your shoulder, okay?” I handed him back the hot beverage.
“Deal.” He took the mug and backed toward his booth. I fluffed my plum-colored skirt and climbed onto the driver’s bench, lifting the reins.
“Oh my gods, is she actually going to drive?” I heard someone say. A chorus of whispers clouded the night around me.
I would not cry. No way. I was a Larkspur. We didn’t have much, but we were brave, and I was raised to do the right thing. When my grandmother was my age, she’d been an archer in the Goblin Wars. She’d faced off against an unseelie uprising and seen death and destruction from the front lines. Tonight I was going to live up to the name.
The lead whip cracked, and the orchestra started to play. Mrs. Harper wasn’t lying; I didn’t even have to slap the reins. Without any effort on my part, my reindeer pulled me into the forest. I sat up straighter, smiling and waving, shoving all my insecurities to the back of my brain.
At first, it seemed like things would be okay. People clapped and yelled, “Happy Yule!” as we slid by. But then I noticed a few fae children pointing and laughing. Mothers whispered to each other. Humans boldly asked why I was alone in voices loud enough for me to hear, ignorant to the shame of it.
It was the longest ride of my life.
I begged the gods to make the parade go faster, but it took the entirety of an hour to reach our destination. Seeing the square decked out in yuletide splendor made my heart give a painful squeeze. Seven was supposed to jump down from the driver’s seat, then help me from the sleigh before sweeping me into the center of the square. A band of the best musicians in Devashire would accompany an evening of dancing, holiday-themed cocktails, and gourmet hors d’oeuvres. Godmother’s magic would make it snow all night, but no one would feel cold. There would be no wind. No slush. And sometime during the evening, Seven would lead me to the central gazebo where he would kiss me, then whisk me away to somewhere private.
My eyes blurred with tears. It wasn’t going to happen, and I had no idea why.
As soon as a volunteer guided my reindeer to a halt, I moved to flee, knowing my tears had flooded the dam of my lower lids and I could no longer hold back the deluge of my grief. I had to get out of there and fast.
But there was a reason the boys always drove the sleighs. My skirts tangled around my legs as I tried to descend, and my heel caught in the hem. I tripped off the step. It happened so fast I didn’t have time to use my wings to break my fall. I landed on my stomach and elbows in the frozen grass.
Two leather shoes appeared in front of me, and I stared up into a leprechaun’s pitiless, laughing face. Mr. Delaney’s face. Seven’s father.
“Pity it came to this, but Seven did you a favor tonight,” he said. “Now you know your place, pixie. You’d do well to remember it.”
He left without helping me up.
Chapter
Five
I snap out of my reverie when a firefly ignites between Arden and me, the horrific, humiliating memory fading with its phosphorescent glow. My heart leaps. All is not lost. “Keep your eyes open, Arden. You’re in for a show.”
“Huh?” She blinks tiredly at me.
Flash. Thousands of fireflies ignite at once, turning night into day. I pop off the suitcase and whirl. There it is! The circular stone gate was right behind me all along. How had I missed it before?
The fireflies fade, and everything goes dark again. The gate blends away into the night.
“What the hell?” Arden gasps. “Those little guys give off serious wattage! Is that normal?”
“For these fireflies it is. They’re a rare synchronous variety that feed on fairy energy.” I point in the direction of the circle of stones. “We’re here. The portal is through the moon gate.”
She sidles up to me, suitcase in hand. “Where? I don’t see anything.”
“I can’t either. It’s invisible in the darkness, but it’s there. Wait for it…”
The fireflies ignite again, bathing the forest in their warm golden light. The gate appears again. “Come!” I take her hand and step forward but stop short when Arden squeezes tighter, her hand partially slipping from mine.
“I… can’t,” she says. “It feels like there’s something in front of me. I can’t move forward.”
The light fades into velvety midnight blue again, and I back up to her. I was afraid this would happen. Fuck that driver. I thought she said someone was coming to help us.
Flash! Like a lightning strike, the forest glows again.
We are not alone.
No, no no no. Not him. My breath hitches. Of all the people Godmother might have sent to meet us, why oh why did it have to be him?
Spotlighted by a thousand fireflies, Seven Delaney is casually leaning against the stone arch of the moon gate as if he’s been waiting for us the entire time. His legs are crossed at the ankle, and the crooked grin he shoots my way is heart-stopping and oh so infuriating. How dare he smile at me after what he did? How dare he come within striking distance?
This man is as close to a nemesis as I’ve ever had and as much the reason for me fleeing Devashire as anything else. On the outside, he’s wrapped in a scrumptious package of long, lean muscle and uncanny grace. His shoulders strain the material of his dark dress shirt, and corded forearms, scandalous in their musculature, extend beyond his pushed-up sleeves. With a hand resting lightly on abs as tight as chiseled marble beneath the material, he winks one emerald eye at me, the other twinkling in the moonlight as if he finds our circumstances amusing. His perfectly tailored trousers are a work of art, as are his handcrafted leather loafers.
In one word, Seven is stunning. I’m stunned. Arden is stunned. Likely at least half the fireflies flitting around us are stunned (at least the female ones). He is overtly sexual, undeniably handsome, and as charming as they come. In other words, a dangerous menace to all womankind.
Leprechauns have a reputation for being short and ugly in the human world. I laughed the first time I saw the University of Notre Dame’s mascot. Nothing could be further from the truth. Jealous rivals and political enemies started those rumors to tarnish the reputations of the leprechaun dynasties they hated, anything to get a jab in at the luckiest fae. I can understand the sentiment. Of any of our kind, they have the most inherent luck. That translates into all aspects of their existence, including their physical forms. Leprechauns are beautiful—always beautiful.
Pixies like me, we’re designed to blend with nature in our natural forms, but leprechauns stand out. They sparkle. And if their physical perfection weren’t enough to make you hate them, they are also rich—the type of rich that’s only possible through generations of wealth—a wealth that almost always leads to a power and a superiority complex.
In short, a leprechaun is a caramel-covered Adonis in couture. They’re almost irresistible. Even knowing that Seven’s soul is as rotten as a maggot-infested peach, his physical presence leaves me breathless.
“Seven.” His name hisses through my teeth.
“Sophead,” he says playfully. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.”
I cringe at the pet name he used to use when we were children. “Don’t call me that! You have no right to call me that.”
He snorts. “I didn’t know rights were necessary to use a nickname.”
“Mom?” Arden peers around me curiously. Without even realizing it, I’ve placed myself protectively between them.
“Who’s this?” Seven pushes off the moon gate and approaches Arden to get a better look at her. No, he doesn’t just look. He studies her like she’s a specimen on a microscope slide. I move more fully in front of Arden, blocking his view.
“This is my daughter.” I emphasize the word in a way that reminds him she’s a child and off-limits. I don’t trust him within an inch of her.
“I can see that,” he says around a lopsided grin. “She’s practically a miniature version of you.”
Arden shoves around me and extends her hand before I can stop her. “I’m Arden.”
I slap her hand down. “Arden, no!”
Arden flashes me an injured look.
“Never offer your hand to a fae, Arden,” Seven says. “A handshake among fairies binds a magical agreement. As a human, you can’t be sure the shake is just a shake. It’s too dangerous for you. Keep your hands to yourself when you greet someone.”
“Oh.” She slides her hands into her pockets, a faint blush of embarrassment warming her cheeks.
Fury grips me in its shaking fist. “She doesn’t need you of all people lecturing her on fairy etiquette. I’ll teach her what she needs to know.” I have taught her a thing or two about fairy culture, but who could blame her for not remembering? It’s been years since we discussed it. I’d never planned for her to come back here. After sixteen successful years living among humans, I never thought she’d need to.
He ignores my tirade and smiles charmingly at Arden. “I’m Seven, by the way.”
“Like the number?” she asks.
“Exactly like the number.” He winks at her.
Gah! He’s incorrigible. “Enough with the introductions.” I slash a hand through the air between us. “Can you get her through the portal or not? You might as well know she’s human.”
He’s still studying Arden in a way that fills me with unease. “How old are you, Arden?”
“Sixteen,” she says. She’ll be seventeen at the end of September. I can almost hear him doing the math. Arden came along soon after I left Dragonfly—nine months to be exact. Only my parents know the truth about my pregnancy. Did they tell anyone? If they did, I’ll know soon enough. Fairies adore gossip and speculation.
It’s none of his fucking business.
“Have you ever visited Dragonfly Hollow before?” he asks Arden, charismatic and steady, like he’s trying to put her at ease.
“Stop it!” I grit out.
He glances uneasily in my direction. “Stop what?”
Trying to endear yourself to her, I almost say, but I halt the words before they come out of me. He’s the only one with enough luck to walk us through the gate, and Arden is shivering and exhausted. I take a deep breath and blow it out, stuffing the memories of what he did to me in a dark closet at the back of my brain. I place my hand on Arden’s shoulder. “We’ve been traveling all night. Please show us through.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Of course. You haven’t changed a bit, Sophia. All business.”
“I’ve changed,” I snap, then narrow my eyes. “I’m far less naive.”
Our eyes lock, and challenge sparks between us.
“Take my hand,” he commands, holding one out to each of us. “I’ll walk you through.”
The last thing I want to do is to touch him, but there’s no other way. I might be able to get through the gate without him, but I’d risk being separated from Arden. Reluctantly I slip my fingers into his. My stomach gives an annoying flutter at his touch, my internal workings betraying a lingering desire for this man. I grind my teeth and thank the stars that my will and my mind are stronger than my libido. It’s times like these that having a poker face comes in handy.
Arden takes his other hand and smiles warmly up at him, her eyes filled with stars. Fuck. We’re overdue for a long talk.
Seven faces the moon gate and takes a deep breath. The fireflies glow again, lighting up the night. I notice the strain on his face as beneath our feet, the ground begins to rumble. What is he doing? He couldn’t be… My eyes widen.
Luck is different than magic. A creature with magic can create something out of nothing and command the elements to do their bidding. True magic users are rare. Seven isn’t a magic user, but the luck he’s wielding is more powerful than any I’ve known before. Luck can’t create something out of nothing, but it can influence the world around it to make something that could happen on its own happen right then.
The wards protecting Dragonfly are grounded in earth. Seven is disrupting their anchor, causing slabs of rock to shift deep beneath our feet. It’s a natural phenomenon, but its occurrence now, at this moment, is all his doing. The amount of luck it takes to cause a minor earthquake like this is staggering, and I can’t help but gape in awe of his abilities. This level of control could stop a beating heart. It could cause a bird to fall from the sky beak first and kill an enemy.
He’s stronger now than when I left. Stronger, and far more dangerous.
“Now,” he says and ushers us both forward. Arden and I shuffle through the moon gate at his side. I feel the wards nipping at my heels as they close again behind me. I breathe a sigh of relief when Seven releases my fingers, and I rub the tingle from my palm that lingers after his touch.
Seven cracks his neck, then his knuckles, the tension in his body relaxing once more.
I set my bag down and orient myself. We’re near the back of Wonderland, one of five theme parks that make up the Dragonfly Hollow world. My parents live two blocks from here. This subdivision is called Enchantment and is one of three residential areas within Dragonfly Hollow and the only one inside Wonderland.
“Thanks for your help,” I say to Seven, anxious to leave his presence. “We can make it from here.”
“I’d better escort you.” He starts walking toward my old place, gesturing for us to follow.
“Really, it’s not necessary,” I insist.
He doesn’t acknowledge my protest. I grumble as Arden falls into step behind him and I’m forced to follow along. Arden’s gaze drifts to the colorful mushroom-shaped houses that line the streets. Crimson, emerald, and royal purple caps top homes with matching shutters and circular doors. It’s as if we’ve all been shrunk down into a cartoon village, a fantastical neighborhood designed to play into human misconceptions.
“Wow, this is wild,” Arden says, spinning in place to take it all in.
“Fairies don’t actually live in mushrooms,” I tell her. “Outside the Dragonfly theme park, our residences look exactly like human houses—better in most cases because our engineering is superior—but inside the parks, this facade sells tickets. Some of these homes are rented to humans, which is why my parents can live here inexpensively. It’s convenient for them because they own a store here, and it’s lucrative to play into the fantasy.”
“Oh,” she says. “So some fairies do live here.”
“Well, yes. Quite a few actually.”
“Then some fairies do live in mushrooms.” She giggles.
I bristle. “Not naturally. Only for show.”
She shrugs. “Humans didn’t naturally live in two-bedroom condominiums either, but the cave got old after a while.”
“Arden! You know very well what I mean.”
She starts walking again, seeming to take in every detail of the street. “Yeah… it’s still cool.”
While she’s distracted, Seven drifts to my side. “How did FIRE finally catch up to you?”
“None of your business.”
“Just wondering how the feds found you after all this time. Once Arden called your parents, my people looked into your case. You supported yourself playing poker. Did you get greedy? Use too much luck?”
“The agent never said how he caught me,” I mumble with a shrug. Why am I even explaining myself to him? “I still don’t know.”
The shallow smile he offers says it all. He suspects I made a stupid mistake. He’s probably surprised a mere pixie survived outside the wards.
“I didn’t think you’d ever get caught,” he says, and the admission surprises me enough I have to shuffle to keep from tripping over my own feet. “The FIRE agents have enough fairy prisoners working for them now that he was probably able to use their luck. I doubt he’d have been successful without help from one of us.”
The connotation is that it wasn’t my fault, a kind thing to say. I’m baffled by it. Why is Seven being kind to me now?
Arden chimes in from ahead of us. “She was trying to win my university tuition. My deposit is due for the fall.”
“Arden, shhh.”
“Aren’t you a little young for college?” Seven asks.
Arden preens. “I’m a year ahead. I was admitted to an accelerated premed program at Chapel Hill.”
He slants a look of admiration in her direction. “I could tell you were smart the moment I met you.”
“Okay!” I say, intentionally interrupting and wedging myself between them again. We’ve reached my parents’ place. “This is it.” I usher Arden away from Seven toward the stone path that leads to the front door, rolling my eyes when he lingers in the street. Why won’t he just leave?
As I knock on the round wooden door, I flash back to a time when I could walk in without knocking. The door was painted red then. Now it’s purple. Minutes pass and no one comes. I knock again. They must know we’re here. My parents had to have arranged all this.
When the door finally opens, it takes me a full minute to recognize my mother. She’s aged. Her once-brown hair is now peppered with silver. Fairies aren’t immortal, but their natural lives are long compared to humans, three hundred years on average. My mother isn’t a day over seventy, which means her silver hair is caused by negative emotions, not trips around the sun. A pit forms in my stomach as I wonder if any of that gray hair had to do with me.
“I suppose you expect to stay here,” she says by way of greeting.
“Where else would I stay?” When she says nothing, I add, “I wasn’t hoping for a warm greeting, but a hello might be nice.”
“Hello.” She folds her arms over her white nightgown.
“Hello,” I echo. A moment yawns between us. “Mom, this is your granddaughter, Arden.” I move aside so she can get a better look. As soon as she sees Arden’s genuine smile, my mother melts and pulls her into an embrace.
“Welcome, Arden. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She oozes warmth toward her granddaughter. I thank the gods for small mercies. “You did the right thing calling us. Go ahead inside. There’s a snack for you on the counter.”
