The Pirate Fairy (6 page)

He’d been truthful about everything and paid the price for it. Was it too late for him to explore his new power and use it to his advantage?

“If I can’t die by gunshot, how do fairies die?” Denny asked.

The fox man looked at him. “You should live forever, unless you ingest poison, or—”He paused dramatically. “You drink to excess. Each alcoholic beverage shortens your lifespan by a year.”

Denny’s mind went into a spiral of shock, denial, anger then acceptance. He’d stop drinking from now on. He resented that his crew had given him endless bottles of absinthe and wine.
They were trying to get me to die!

“What is your name?” Denny asked the fox man, who rubbed at a waxy spot on Denny’s wing.”

“Barthelmass.”

“Nice name.”

“Thank you. And what about your curse? Can they lift it?”

Barthelmass moved in front of Denny and looked at him. “No. I never asked. I don’t feel cursed. I feel blessed. I can outrun any man I know. I have sharp senses of smell and hearing and I have plenty of girlfriends.” He smiled. “At least I did, until I met the love of my life and wanted to get married. According to the Supernatural Superior Court, we can’t do that until one of us has our curse removed.”

“Oh, that’s so sad.”

“We’re considered mixed races now.” Barthelmass looked devastated but recovered quickly. He moved behind Denny again and rubbed at the wing. It hurt, but Denny didn’t say so.

“There,” Barthelmass said. “Your wing is clear. Try to keep them free of restriction as much as possible. I’ll finish bathing you. See if you can’t get them to flap.”

“How do I do that? Everybody keeps telling me to try without telling me how to do it.”

“Imagine them flapping. I didn’t know what to do with my fox tail when I got it. Had some nasty bathroom accidents at first, which the ladies didn’t find so sexy.”

“No. I imagine not.”

Barthelmass squeezed the sponge into the water again and pressed Denny’s skin. The pain of the wax-glugged wing had subsided, and having another man touch his bare skin made his cock go
boing
.
Uh-oh.
He had to stop that.

“Imagine you have always had them. Picture them flapping. Send a message to them. Ask them to flap for you. To show you their magic.”

Denny did as he’d been told. Nothing happened at first. For several long minutes, he agonized over the futility of his efforts, but Barthelmass kept saying encouraging things.

“Feel their power. Persuade them back into life. Wings have feelings, too.” Barthelmass moved in front of Denny, washing his throat and chest. He teased Denny’s nipples with a moist fingertip as well as a gentle swipe of the sponge.

Denny could no longer hide his boner, and Barthelmass didn’t seem to take offense. In fact he captured Denny’s massive cock in his hand and stroked it. “Feel your power,” he coaxed. “Show me your wings!” Barthelmass stroked Denny’s cock with increasing force.

This seemed to set off a series of intense feelings deep within Denny’s body. The orgasm he had at the hands of the fox man made Denny’s wings twitch.

“That’s it.” The fox man kept his grip on Denny’s cock with one hand, the other touching the feathers in Denny’s wings. The wings vibrated.

“You’re doing it.”

Denny’s feet left the ground, but Barthelmass brought him back again. “I opened you up,” he said, “but now you’ll have to learn to do it without somebody bringing you sexual release.”

“Okay,” Denny said, hugely disappointed that it was over. He wanted so much more with the fox man.

Barthelmass finished cleaning Denny then handed him a pair of cotton pants and a shirt that gave the wings in his back freedom of movement.

Denny was confused about many things, such as why he needed his wings to work, but suddenly it came to him. Orgasm had released months of cloudy thoughts and feelings. Denny needed to show the court that he had accepted his new condition. That he harbored no ill feeling toward the princess. Even though he did.

The cotton pants he slid up and over his thighs reminded him of another jail in another time and place in a galaxy far, far away. He trotted to the bed and lay on his side.

“That’s good.” Barthelmass used the same gentle, coaxing tone he had earlier. “Rest now. And start again as soon as you’re awake.”

“You’re lovely to me.” Denny sighed when Barthelmass ran a cool hand over Denny’s brow.

“Ebba is the woman I want to be my wife. I want her to be free,” Barthelmass said. “She is the best thing in my life. She has explored both sides of her sexuality and if she becomes solely a woman, the laws will allow us to be married.” He picked up the basin and left.

Denny was too spent to even say goodbye. He fell into a deep sleep. He had always gravitated toward men but had no idea of how to pursue his desire for sexual contact with another. He’d gotten the chance unexpectedly when he was eighteen and thrown into a Spanish jail during a stop at the sea port of Tarragona, in the Mediterranean Sea. Denny had taken to sea life with remarkable ease and had been so influenced by his superior officers when they’d gone astray that he’d joined them on their less savory antics. Particularly when it had involved drinking. Though Denny chafed at authority, he shone when a superior officer befriended him. It came from his years as a street urchin. Always desperate to belong, he’d trotted beside the ship’s crewmembers when they’d stepped away from hauling barrels onto the ship and slipped into one of the many tavernas dotting the port.

For the first time, Denny had tasted the local drink, Chartreuse, an extremely alcoholic green drink that tasted sweet at first, but then developed a strong and pungent aftertaste that made the drinker imbibe more to get back the sweetness. Denny and the crew had ordered platters of
pa amb tomàquet
, which had turned out to be large slices of square toasted bread with scrapings of tomato laced with olive oil and salt. Denny couldn’t believe how good such a simple meal could taste. He thought of the numerous nights he and his sister, Polly, had slept without food in their bellies. Like the others, he’d kept drinking.

It had been something of a shock to find himself on a stone floor the next morning inside a jail cell. The place had been noisy and the head jailer had come to see him when a guard had alerted him that their prisoner was awake.

“Where are the others?” Denny had asked, sitting up and wishing the world would stop spinning.

The head jailer had paced. “My name is Christoph and I oversee things here.”

Denny had panicked that he’d been left behind, and waited for the news.

“Your friends refused to pay their bill and your captain, Lester Piggins, will not pay for it. He says he will leave you all here until you’ve learned your lesson.”

Denny had hated the sound of that and had plotted against Piggins from that moment.

“I understand,” Denny had said. What else could he have said? He didn’t speak Spanish and he’d been at the mercy of this Christoph guy who, though not especially attractive, had had a seductive accent, and so far had seemed quite kind.

Christoph had left him alone then, and for hours and hours, Denny had remained that way in his cell. He’d had no idea what was going on but had heard occasional chatter from other prisoners scattered around him. He’d tried to peer out of the bars of his cell, but hadn’t been able to see much. A frantic urge to pee had left him disheartened when he’d noticed the slop bucket in the corner. He’d made use of it, but it had demoralized him.

He’d done nothing wrong, or had he?

Chapter Four

Merritt somehow made it out of the window, but dropped one of the items he’d stuffed down his shirt. Damn. It was the black candle. Gremma could still use it to work magic against the person whose blood had touched it.

“No!” she yelled as he dropped
back
inside and grabbed it, but Merritt made his way out of the window again and took off running. She followed him, but he lost her. He ran and he ran, hiding far in the forest. Her voice followed him until he climbed higher up into the dense forest and found a small cave. Once he was sure he was alone, he sat just inside the entrance. He took out everything, including the sandwich that might or might not have been poisoned. He was starving now and the sky grew dark. He’d been gone all day. His sister would be frantic, no doubt, but he didn’t care. He examined all the objects he was certain had been stolen from unluckily hexed victims. Psychometry had been his gift until he and Fortunata had had the misfortune of being abducted. Neither of them had been able to harness their power because Merritt had been shackled. Then Denny had come to their rescue.

He wouldn’t think about that now. He had to find out who had owned each object before him and return the items in order to break the spell Fortunata had over them. He moved his hand over everything. He’d start with the sandwich. It was the most recent object that had possibly been hexed.

Merritt’s magic was strong but he’d declined to use it all these months because nothing mattered to him without Denny. He’d allowed Fortunata such power while in his depressed state that he now realized this new-found power had gone to her head. Well, not anymore. He touched the sandwich, closed his eyes and willed his head to empty itself of all thoughts. Nothing came at first then he saw the faint light in the corner of his mind. No matter how hard he tried, the image remained blurry.

Concentrate.

His head pounded and he opened his eyes, looking down at his fingertips. They were black. He’d absorbed magic from somewhere. Was it the sandwich? He looked beside it. The candle. Whose blood was it? He knew he needed to release the negative energy in his hands before he could work on the candle. The only thing that could release such dark magic was love. True love. Merritt closed his eyes again, and Denny’s face was right there. Merritt’s heart almost broke remembering how they had come to know each other. The stolen kisses, the furtive touching and hand-holding. He’d loved taming the fierce pirate of the high seas just by loving him.

Merritt smiled, remembering how he was the one who’d planned Denny’s seduction in a rented room in Tarragona, a busy sea port in Spain. Denny had some weird history with the place, that Merritt still didn’t understand but suspected it had something to do with a man. He’d sent a message to Denny, who’d come to meet him. Freshly shaved and washed, he’d smelled divine. They’d shared frantic kisses, Merritt touching Denny’s crotch. He had delighted at the thick, hard cock eager for his touch. Merritt knew that Denny’s tastes were a bit kinky. Not by anything Denny had said, but by the occasional snatches of memory Merritt had gleaned from him.

Just as he was getting to the good part of his reverie where he sucked Denny’s cock, another image shifted into his mind. Fortunata shimmered into view, then Gremma. Then he saw the horse. Poor, dear Cillian. Merritt gasped. He glimpsed Elvin in the palace kitchens assembling the package of food he’d given Merritt earlier that day. One of the kitchen maids was in there scrubbing vegetables and she chided him for ransacking the food stocks.

“It’s for the prince,” he said, his voice sounding loud in Merritt’s mind.

“Ah, well, if it’s for him, then that’s okay. Give him an apple. He loves those. Especially the green ones.”

Elvin smiled and plucked one from the bowl. He wrapped the package and went to Merritt’s bedroom. The image shifted just as Elvin opened the door.

The food wasn’t poisoned. I don’t think it was the apple.

Merritt’s eyes flew open as a flash of pain hit him right in the side. It was as though somebody had stuck him with a knife.

He fell over on the cave floor, panting, sweat beading on his head.

In his agony, he reached for the black candle. Instantly, the image of Fortunata cutting Cillian’s shoulder with a small, pointed blade flew into his mind. She laughed as Cillian whinnied and reared. The horse took off and she ran back to Gremma’s house, smearing the candle with the horse’s blood.

“What are you doing?” Gremma asked. “Who have you cursed now?” She paused then waved her hand over the altar. “Isn’t this enough? Haven’t you done enough now?” Gremma looked horrified. “You hate your brother that much?”

“No. I love his power that much. His pirate lover will soon be here, and I’ll get rid of him, too.” She threw back her head and unleashed a wild cackle that left Merritt shaking in the dark cave.

* * * *

Denny dreamed of Tarragona and his life in the cell there. He felt as though he had gone back in time and relived the moment he fell asleep sitting against the wall there. Somehow, he’d gotten through a rough night filled with strange noises, weird smells and severe hunger pangs.

* * * *

Tarragona

A few years earlier…

The morning after his captain had left them, a jailer brought him a cup of coffee and a hunk of warm bread. That was when his love affair with coffee began.

Christoph came and talked to him, his heavily accented English quite charming to Denny, who was beside himself with happiness when a second cup of coffee and another hunk of bread came his way in the afternoon. Late in the evening, a jailer came to collect him.