Faebound Rhapsody Read online

  Faebound Rhapsody

  Amy J. Wenglar

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 by Amy J. Wenglar

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected]

  First paperback edition January 2021

  Book cover design by Ampersand Book Cover Designs

  ISBN (paperback)

  www.amyjwenglar.com

  For my readers

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Author’s Note

  Want More?

  About the Author

  Also by Amy J. Wenglar

  1

  “You’re what?” Greg’s voice shoots to an unbelievable octave as he stares at me, his eyes wide and his face pale with terror.

  Okay, so maybe telling him everything wasn’t one of my better ideas. But he’s my best friend, and it’s time he knows the truth about me and my life. I’ve got a pretty important role to fill now as the future Fae Queen. And if you can’t tell your best friend you’re next in line for the Seelie throne, who can you tell?

  “It’s true,” I admit. “I’ll show you. I’ll prove it to you.”

  With a quick glance at Alexander, I rise unsteadily from the couch, where I’ve just spent the past hour spilling my secrets. The surrounding air suddenly feels thick with tension, as if the very room itself wishes to boot me right back through the faerie portal to Weimar Berlin. This house does not feel like the bright, cheery place I left behind. In fact, it feels downright depressing.

  I hold up my hand, eager to use the magic I share with my new husband. Take it for a spin. See what it can do. A tingle of excitement shoots through me, followed by…

  Nothing. Absolutely nothing happens. My magic fizzles before it even reaches the surface.

  “Sophia.” Alexander rushes to me and gently places his hand over mine, lowering it before I can humiliate myself any further. “Not now,” he whispers. “Now’s not the time.”

  Standing there with my arm hanging awkwardly at my side, I feel like a complete idiot. What in the world has happened to my magic?

  Greg snorts with revulsion as he gives Alexander a nasty once-over.

  “Right. Magic. Is that what we’re telling ourselves? That we’ve got magical powers?” He rolls his eyes as he shifts his weight to one hip. “Get over yourself, Sophe,” he hisses. “There’s no such thing as magic.”

  “Oh yes, there is,” Horace says with a bark of laughter.

  “Horace!”

  I shoot the faerie a warning glance, but it’s too late. The bottle of beer Greg had been drinking levitates and then dances back and forth in mid-air. Greg lets out a yelp of fear, pressing himself up against the couch. He crosses himself with a trembling hand, but it unfortunately does not actually exorcise Horace from the room.

  But God probably wouldn’t know what to do with Horace, who delights in the opportunity to torture my friend with ghostly sound effects. And then, with an effortless flick of his finger tip, he directs the bottle, so it floats up, hovering right beneath Greg’s lips.

  “Horace,” I shout again, but he ignores me.

  “Drink me, Human,” he says, snickering at the distressed expression frozen on Greg’s face.

  The mouth of the bottle taps impatiently against Greg’s lips, but he only sits there, gripping the edge of the couch cushions, too frightened to move.

  “That’s enough,” says Alexander as he steps forward, reaching out to snatch the bottle. “Apologies, Greg, for my associate’s complete immaturity.”

  He extends a hand out in polite introduction, but Greg only stares up at him, his face darkening with anger.

  “No,” Greg growls, leaping to his feet. “I want you all out now.” His eyes, which are usually full of warmth and empathy, blaze with bitter rage as they meet with mine. “Including you.”

  “Me?” He glowers at me. “Now, hold on. Greg, wait,” I plead. “Just hold on a minute.” I reach for his arm, but he jerks away from me.

  Maybe I really shouldn’t have told him everything. This is not going well.

  “And you.” Greg’s eyes flash as he glares at Chris. “If you’re really a vampire, then I can forbid you from even entering my house. Right? Isn’t that how it works? I can revoke any invitation Sophia gave to you when she invited you in here for… God-knows-what. Right? So get out. All of you.”

  “Greg!” I shout, my face flaming with embarrassment.

  I knew my homecoming might be a bit strange. I was prepared for some weirdness between Greg and me. But I wasn’t expecting this. He’s furious, his sudden hatred radiating off of him in waves. I’ve never seen him like this. So angry. So full of pent-up fury.

  “God-knows-what happened in a lot of places, but never here,” Chris points out, his mouth twisting into a smirk as he throws a cool glance in Alexander’s direction. “And, might I remind you, Gregory…” He straightens to his full height and saunters toward Greg, stopping when he is face-to-face with him. “This is my house. A house in which you are living rent-free. Second, unless you know how to bar a vampire from entering your place of residence, I’m afraid you are out of luck. Now back down before we tear you to pieces.”

  “Chris,” I hiss. “My God, what is with all of you?” I glare around my bedraggled, travel-weary circle of friends. “We just traveled through time and space. I just rescued a Fae Prince with whom I am now lightbound. Now, I wasn’t expecting a red carpet welcome with parades and trumpets and stuff, but we made it back here. We’re alive. All is well. That’s got to count for something, right?”

  “Trust me, Sophe,” Greg spits. “All is far from well. Step outside.” He gestures toward the front window. “Look around and see for yourself. And keep in mind, it’s two o’clock in the afternoon. In the middle of March. Let that sink in. Then, tell me that all is well.”

  A strange expression crosses his face, and he watches me with interest as I glance between him and the front door. What does he mean by “all is far from well”? Just what is on the other side of that door?

  “Well, then. This has been fun,” Horace drawls, shooting me a lazy grin. “But I’m afraid there is much to do, and I must pop off. Jo? Will you accompany me to Faerie then? After we take Sophia’s mother home, that is.”

  He beams as he holds out his arms as if gathering a flock of ducklings under his wings, and both Jo and my mother giggle as they link arms with him.

  “You, too, Colin.”

  Jo beckons him with a wink and a slow crook of her finger. I can’t help but to notice the jealousy that flashes in Colin’s eyes as he watches her fawn over Horace. He links up on Jo’s other side, his expression sour, and his shoulders slumped as his flapper girlfriend chatters with Horace, laughing over some faerie inside joke that druids obviously have no business knowing.

  Horace has charm, no doubt about it. And Jo is a sucker for charm. Hell, sometimes even I’m not immune to that Briti
sh charm. But this is not one of those times. I’m ready for my posse to disband for the time being. Party’s over. I need to regroup. I need to reorient myself in the 21st Century. And I need to make amends with Greg. Alone.

  “I’ll call you later, Sophie-Bug,” my mother whispers. With a dramatic pop followed by a flourish of smoke that’s reminiscent of an old TV sitcom, Horace, Jo, Colin, and my mother disappear. Greg looks as if he might be sick.

  “This is too much for me right now,” Greg says, shaking his head as he stares between Alexander, Chris, and me. “I have to… I’ve got to get out of here.”

  He looks thin, too thin, his clothes hanging off his once-muscular frame as he stumbles toward the front door.

  “Greg,” I call after him. “Wait. I’m coming with you. Let’s just… talk about this.”

  “Sophia, no. Let him go.” Alexander reaches for my arm, but I shrug him away as I take off after my best friend.

  Oppressive darkness crashes into me like a slap in the face, stopping me dead in my tracks. At two o’clock in the afternoon, the streets are just as dark and deserted as they are at two in the morning.

  Greg wasn’t kidding. All isn’t well.

  “I’m not sure what there is to discuss.” Greg calls over his shoulder. His voice is every bit as icy as the wind that tears through the darkened streets. “I want you and your supernatural lovers gone when I get back. End of story. Done.”

  I start to say something else, but the frigid darkness seems to swallow him up before the words can leave my mouth. When did Austin become so cold? So dark? And so ghostly? I don’t blame people for wanting to stay indoors during this kind of weather, but it’s eerily quiet out here. No matter the weather, our quirky little neighborhood is usually bustling with a variety of college shenanigans during the day: people out walking and laughing, cars driving by blaring music from tinny speakers, drunk frat-boys brawling in the streets. Not even the nastiest weather can stop the occasional drunk frat-boy street brawl, after all.

  But there are no cars. No shenanigans. No brawls. Even the streetlights seem to have lost their luster. It’s as if Austin, Texas, and everyone living here has just given up. But why?

  I feel I will find out soon.

  “Sophia, my love. Come back inside. It’s absolutely freezing out here, and I don’t want—oh dear.” Alexander gasps, joining me on the porch. He stares up one side of the street and down the other. “Someone has been busy,” he murmurs. “I fear we are too late.”

  “Someone? As in Atticus Drake?” Alexander doesn’t answer. “Greg says it’s two o’clock. In the afternoon,” I whisper, afraid to disturb the oppressive silence that surrounds me. “I don’t think we’re too late, Alexander. I think we’ve missed the party altogether.” I chew my lower lip. “What happened here?”

  “A darkness curse. I can feel it,” he explains, a hint of worry sparking in his eyes. “Only the most powerful beings can summon it. I know Atticus Drake is powerful, but this kind of dark magic is…” He trails off, his eyes scanning the street again. “I will not sugar-coat it. This is bad, Sophia. This is terrible.”

  He cuts off, pressing his lips together as he stares out into the blackness.

  “Well, we knew things were going to be bad here,” I say, as if that will help anything.” Is this… worse than what you were expecting?”

  “Yes. Because it isn’t druid magic,” he whispers. “This is something else.”

  I shiver, and he drapes an arm across my shoulders, pulling me to him and pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

  “Well, what is it then?” I ask.

  He pulls away, his expression vacant, and his eyes about a million miles away from me.

  “I don’t expect you to understand. I should not have worried you with this. This is not your concern,” he says, his voice firm.

  I pull myself out of his embrace and scowl at him, not appreciating this wall he seems to throw between us.

  “You know, I’m really sick of people patting me on the head and telling me that all these big, overwhelming supernatural things are not my concern while still expecting me to be a hero, make sacrifices, and constantly put myself in danger.” I narrow my eyes. “Why don’t we save ourselves the trouble, Alexander? It is just as much my concern as it is yours. And I’d rather know what is going on now rather than at the very last possible second. Besides, we’re supposed to be a team now. Isn’t that what it means to be lightbound?”

  He gives me a wary glance followed by that lazy grin I love so much, except this time, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I start to ask him what’s wrong, what is it he’s not telling me, when I am startled by a loud rustling sound in the bushes just off the front porch.

  With a blood-curdling shriek, a shadowy, human-like form leaps out of the bushes, swiping at me with taloned hands that drag across my throat as it attempts to grab my arm.

  I cry out as pain tears through me. What in the hell is that thing? Alexander leaps in between me and the dark figure, his catlike grace dwarfed by Chris who comes barreling out of the front door in a raging, growling blur. The dark figure cowers, hissing at the sight of Chris and glaring at him through red, slitted eyes before it turns and flees with lightening speed out into the inky, black night.

  Vampire.

  Chris turns to face Alexander, eyes glowing and fangs protruded while Alexander stares back in stunned silence.

  “For the love of God, you idiot, please tend to your wife,” Chris snarls before taking off after the creature.

  Alexander snorts with disgust.

  “Goddamned vampires,” Alexander says bitterly as he turns to face me. “My God, Sophia,” he says. “Come here and let me heal you.” A warm orb of light appears in the palm of his outstretched hand.

  “Okay, no, ow,” I say, taking a step back. “That’s going to hurt.”

  An icy gust of wind rakes across my shredded flesh, paralyzing me with pain. I grit my teeth and force back another cry of pain.

  “Worse than that?” Alexander arches an eyebrow. “Come here, Sophia. It’s true. I cannot lie. It will hurt, but only for a second. I promise.”

  He thrusts the orb of light toward me, and takes a deep breath, my voice catching in my throat as I collapse forward into Alexander’s arms. Tears sting my eyes.

  “Don’t you faeries have healing powers that are a little less… potent?” I say through clenched teeth. It feels as if I’ve fallen into a vat of rubbing alcohol, and I’m pretty sure I can hear my skin hissing as my wounds heal. My legs give out from under me, and I sink to the ground with Alexander clasping me in his arms. “Ow, ow, I’m dying. This is it,” I groan.

  “It’s almost…” Alexander inhales, scrunching up his face as he turns away. “Oh dear. I forget how squeamish I am toward human injuries.”

  “Is it working or not?” I bellow. “You’re a Fae Prince, and I’m pretty sure I’m dying. Now’s not the time to be squeamish, Alexander.” I shove him in the chest.

  Despite the chill in the air, sweat drips down my face, and then after a few more seconds of agony, the pain is gone. Alexander surveys me for a moment before patting my shoulder.

  “There now,” he says cheerfully. “Good as new.”

  I grasp his hand as he helps me to my feet and then peer out into the black depths of night stretched before me.

  “Thanks,” I murmur. “Had you not been here, that vampire would’ve…” I trail off. I don’t want to think about what that vampire might have done.

  “Yes, and now the question is, what did he want?” He narrows his eyes at me. “The one in the bushes,” he clarifies. “Not the other one. I know what he wants.”

  He refuses to call Chris by name and instead takes his frustration out on me as he takes my elbow and leads me to the door.

  “It would appear he wanted me,” I snap. “And stop with the catty remarks about Chris. We’ve got vampires with giant talons and an evil druid roaming the streets. We have bigger things to worry about.”
>
  He makes a face. “Well, it’s nice to know that good ol’ trusty Christoph is on the job.”

  “It’s also reassuring to know that the Fae don’t remotely experience jealousy.” I roll my eyes.

  “Get inside,” he commands, sending a shiver of delight rushing down my spine.

  “Yes, my prince,” I say, bobbing a curtsy.

  “Are you making fun of me?” He bites back a grin as he swipes for my arm.

  “Permission to enter the human realm,” barks an invisible male voice, startling me.

  Alexander’s face brightens at the sound of the voice.

  “Ah, yes. General Morel.” He ushers me inside, closing the door behind us. “Permission granted, Sir.”

  General Morel paces the living room, hands clasped behind his back and bushy brows furrowed as if he’s preparing a heroic speech before some epic Fae battle. He wears a dark green uniform that doesn’t look much different from what a human military general might wear, except the fabric gleams with an otherworldly iridescence. His decorations consist of flowers and leaves instead of the flashier pins and medals that adorn human military uniforms.

  He takes on the form of an older man with short, almost white hair that’s parted to one side of his head, and his smooth, ageless-looking skin is covered by a short, Victorian-style mutton chop mustache that looks like it came straight out of the Civil War.

  “Hello, my old friend,” says Alexander, moving forward to embrace the stern-faced general.

  “There is no time for nostalgia, My Lord. I come bearing news from the Seelie Court,” he snaps, his voice gruff, but his black eyes soft as he returns Alexander’s embrace, patting him on the back as if he’s his son rather than a Fae Prince.