Roman learns some disturbing things about his father, and he and Virgil finally talk.
Want to start at the beginning? Hereâs the AO3 link and the Wattpad link.
An excerpt from Chapter 8:
Theyâd nearly reached the top of the staircase.
âWas he awful, Red?â Roman asked quietly. âJust tell me; I can take it. I already know he abandoned my bio mom and Smile, and nothing Iâve heard so far has improved that image.â
âJohnny wasâŠdifficult,â Red allowed after a moment.
âHow do you mean?â
Red sighed. âI wonât sugarcoat it. We all had our inner demons to fight, but his were more vicious than most. His faery master fed on pain. I still believe the bastard used Johnnyâs powers to control their other changelings, which broke him on a fundamental level. He was fickle, moody, prone to violent outbursts, hated any kind of commitment, and he enjoyedâŠâ
Roman swallowed hard. âEnjoyed what?â
Red grimaced at his expression. âThe thing you need to understand about Johnnyâs history with this house is how deeply he hated faeries.â
The whole chapter can be found over on AO3 or Wattpad. The boys aren't completely hopeless at talking! And Roman has only learned the tip of the iceberg...
The group goes to the old Grimm house in Cassadaga and meets several Founders.
Want to start at the beginning? Hereâs the AO3 link and the Wattpad link.
An excerpt from Chapter 7:
The Fit finally slowed, turned on its blinker, and turned onto a winding driveway. Roman followed, his eyes widening as the old Grimm house came into view.
It was bigger than he expected, a three-story plantation-style house sporting pillars and red brick walls, enclosed in a wrap-around porch. Oaks, pines, and palm trees shrouded the roof and an overgrown yard in perpetual shade. The house paint was cracked and peeling, the brick covered by moss, but the trees looked trimmed, and the porch gleamed with fresh paint. Clearly, someone still took care of this place.
All eight members in the original Founding Grimm chapter once called this plantation home, Kate had told him; nine if you counted Maid Maleen herself, plus a revolving assortment of other rescued changelings. It still irked him that she never mentioned Johnny Prince being one of them.
The whole chapter can be found over on AO3 or Wattpad. You get to meet a few of my favorite OCs in this chapter :)
The emotional tension spills out on multiple fronts, with predictable consequences.
Want to start at the beginning? Hereâs the AO3 link and the Wattpad link.
An excerpt from Chapter 6:
Virgil dragged fingers down the red streaks as the song played, building to the heartbreaking chorus. Roman, meanwhile, vividly remembered the night he found Virgil crumpled on the guest bathroom floor in this very apartment, with bloodshot eyes, a bloodstained mouth, and a toilet full of bloody flower petals. Every note ratcheted his fury higher, making him want to drag Logan in here by his pointed faery ears and make him face what heâd done.
âI hadnât seen this since I left.â Virgil stopped the song before the second verse started. âI painted it three days before I came to Philadelphia. Didnât sleep at all and had an exam the next morning. Still have no idea how I got to class and back again.â
âI remember that call.â Roman struggled to speak through his anger. What on Arcadia had Logan put Virgil through that night? âYou could barely string words together. YouâŠnever did tell me why you left like you did.â
As soon as the words left his mouth, Roman no longer wanted to know. He was sick to death of reliving old pain, old fights, of wondering if Virgil would ever get over this. He wanted to move on. But what if Virgil justâŠcouldnât? What if Logan was Virgilâs true love, and that damned half-faery ruined him for anyone else?
The mirrorâs thorns dug into his palm.
Grimacing, Roman put it away, again.
The whole chapter can be found over on AO3 or Wattpad. The quest to break Roman free of the mirror's curse is off to a great start...
The boys experiment with the mirror, and make a plan.
Want to start at the beginning? Hereâs the AO3 link and the Wattpad link.
An excerpt from Chapter 5:
Logan narrowed his eyes. Without so much as a warning, he seized the mirror and swung it hard at the wall. Roman cried out when it slammed into the meat of his hand, which had inserted itself between the mirror and certain destruction without any input from his brain. He hadnât even felt himself moving.
For a moment he and Logan stared into each otherâs eyes, the mirror poised between them.
âWhat the hell was that?â Roman straightened up and massaged his palm, his heart pounding from adrenaline.
âThat, I fear,â Logan said darkly, âis the mirrorâs true danger to you.â
Roman raised an eyebrow.
âAs I suspected when my magic had no effect.â Logan backed up and presented the mirror to Roman handle-first. âFaery-made objects are often imbued with a strong sense of self-preservation; they will employ whatever or whoever is nearby in order to keep themselves whole. And as her current keeper, Roman; that âwhoeverâ will most likely be you, whether you will it or not.â
The whole chapter can be found over on AO3 or Wattpad. Watch out, we've got a little angst between our Logicality couple coming up...
The group gets Patton up to speed on what's going on, and Roman makes a disturbing discovery about the object he's found.
Want to start at the beginning? Hereâs the AO3 link and the Wattpad link.
An excerpt from Chapter 4:
The apartment complex brought back a rush of memories. Theyâd added a picnic table to the courtyard where Roman always practiced his forms. Loganâs blue Fit and Pattonâs old brown Camry still sat side by side in the parking lot. The third stair from the top still had that weird stain that looked like Gandalfâs hat.
âYou gonna call Pat and tell him weâre coming?â Virgil asked Logan as they climbed the stairs.
âWeâre already here,â Logan pointed out. âPlus, he may be asleep, and if so, I do not wish to wake him.â
Romanâs eyes narrowed. âItâs not that late.â
Logan only marched across the landing and shoved his key in the door.
Patton, it turned out, was not asleep.
The whole chapter can be found over on AO3 or Wattpad. We're getting into the main plot now :)
A perilous faery artifact falls into Romanâs handsâŠa mirror that reveals a personâs true love and drives them mad in the process. Unfortunately, it also bonds with him; a dangerous liability for a Smile hunter.
Now heâs on a quest that will ultimately lead him back to Arcadia. Will he succumb to the urge to look into the mirror before he can find a way to break the bond?
Read the whole story:Â
Ao3 link is here. Or Wattpad is here, if you prefer.
Roman and Virgil reunite under less than ideal circumstances.
Want to start at the beginning? Hereâs the AO3 link and the Wattpad link.
An excerpt from Chapter 3:
Roman and Logan sprinted up Woodland Avenue, away from Painterâs Pond, away from the murderous Sidhe theyâd only barely escaped. Romanâs swordâstill unbloodied, despite every instinctâknocked against his legs as he ran.
âYou know, I finally get the chance to come down from Philly for spring break,â Roman griped. âJust a nice, ordinary visit. And this is what happens!â
He waved the stolen mirror for emphasis, dirt still clinging to it and to his abused nails.
Logan threw a glance behind, his glasses flashing orange as they caught the streetlight. âI am not certain if you want me to commiserate or challenge your reasoning.â
âBoth! Neither! I donât know, hold up a minute, Flash.â
Roman slowed at an intersection, panting; Stetsonâs front entrance loomed to their right.
âI do not think he followed us.â Logan peered up and down the sidewalk. âBreaking the mushroom ring must have worked.â He didnât even sound out of breath. Stupid morning jogging habits.
The whole chapter can be found over on AO3 or Wattpad. As always, tell me what you think! :)
before you came what was your name?
did you look like me?
no oneâs from here
no one, my dear
not even the trees
âRoman, wait.â Logan also stood, grabbing his arm.
âYou heard Tourmaline. Wren and Wrassey are in there,â Roman pulled away and gestured at the ring. âWe have to find them and figure out what this rogue Court Fae is up to.â
He half-hid his sword behind his back and started a casual saunter toward the mushroom ring. Several muttered Faery swear words later, Loganâs near-silent footfalls followed him.
âLook, Virgil would never forgive me if I let something happen to his little pixie friends,â Roman pointed out. âSo donât try to stop me.â
I need this hunt, he added silently. Please donât interfere like you always fucking do.
âVirgil will never forgive either of us if your rashness gets you killed,â Logan shot back.
If Roman hadnât been looking for it, he might have missed the tightening of Loganâs mouth. He definitely noticed the way Logan ignored the question by pushing in front and stepping across the mushroom ring, entering the pocket of liminal space between Earth and the Hedge. Roman pulled up short.
The familiar trees seemed thicker and wilder from inside, crowding the sidewalks, completely hiding the road from view. The mushroom circle was wider on this side, taking up an entire patch of overgrown park, where the ground had been torn up in a dozen places. A wooden wagon with tall, slatted sides, like the kind a child might play with, sat in the exact center of the ring.
They ducked behind a fat trunk.
âWhy the holes?â Logan murmured.
âNicotine addicted squirrels? The Court Fae brought a dog? I dunno,â Roman muttered back. âWhereâs our friendly neighborhood mushroom farmer, I wonder?â
âMy clan!â Tourmaline wailed in her tiny voice, shooting off Loganâs shoulder and pointing at the wagon. Her red hair and drooping wings glimmered. âMy sisters!â
Roman looked again and his heart dropped. Tiny black cages filled the wagon bed, and now he saw that each one held a pixie. Some fluttered madly to keep from touching the metal; others crouched in obvious pain.
âIron cages,â Logan practically growled. âThat is unspeakably cruel.â
âI think I see Wren and Wrassey,â Roman said, feeling sick. Heâd spotted a pair of green skinned, black-haired pixies whoâd been shoved in a cage together.
They edged closer. Everything in Roman screamed at him to grab that wagon and get those poor pixies as far away from this park as possible, but his Smile instincts held him back. Any Court faery whoâd subject pixies to naked iron would likely do worse to intruders.Â
Logan gestured grimly at the grass, which sparkled. âPixie blood is over ninety percent water.â His voice was icy. âUnlike ours, it is almost clear in color.â
Roman inhaled. ââDeath in the water.ââ He spotted a few tiny bodies lying in the grass around the wagon; clearly, some of Tourmalineâs clan had put up a fight. âWe gotta get the survivors out of those cages.â
He adjusted his sword, luck dragging across his sensesâa curtain of hot beadsâas he grasped for a new outcome. Everyone escapes, nobody else dies. Logan showing up had distracted him; now he leaned, hard, but careful not to break through the metaphorical curtain. Doing that always turned his luck dangerously sour.
âAgreed.â Logan laid a hand on Romanâs arm. âBut as you asked before, where is the perpetrator of this cruelty? It seems unlikely that they have conveniently stepped out.â He narrowed his gray eyes at Roman. âUnless that is exactly what they have done.â
âMy whole thing is taking advantage of conveniences, Specs.â Roman stood up. âI got this.â
âI will keep watch,â Logan said.
The trapped pixies shouted and pointed as Roman knelt beside the wagon, his senses on high alert. Some seemed relatively unharmed, still having energy to glow; these kept talking in such frantic Faery that Roman couldnât begin to understand. Most, however, bore signs ofâŠwell, Roman couldnât think of a word besides torture. Bent wings, broken limbs, burns and bruises. Many couldnât fly and were forced to stand or huddle, whimpering, against the cages, despite how it burned their skin. Tourmaline fluttered among them, clasping tiny hands through the bars, murmuring encouragement in soft Faery.
Who the hell would do this to solitaries? Fury rose in Romanâs chest. Solitary Fae could be mercurial, primative, and dangerous, but there was a reason Smile hunted primarily Court bastards. Those could rise to unspeakable levels of depraved.
He stabbed his sword into the grass and grabbed Wren and Wrasseyâs cage, wincing at the burn. They huddled together on the tails of their dresses, shaking, but Wrassey lifted her head at his voice.
âRoman?â She stumbled and yelped as her bare skin touched the metal.
âNo, donât try to move. Iâm gonna get you out.â Roman studied their cage, heart sinking when he spotted a keyhole. Faery magic wonât stick to iron, so of course itâs a manual lock. ButâŠ
âThese bars are thin and sloppily welded,â he murmured to the pixies, who stared at him with wide eyes. âI may be able to rip the tops off.â
âPlease,â Wren murmured.
âBefore he comes back,â Wrassey added.
âBrace yourselves.â Roman fought the stinging burn to get a good grip on the top and bottom. He pulled, and the top tore free. The sisters zoomed out; Wren planting grateful kisses on Romanâs cheek and hugging Tourmaline, while Wrassey flew high, scanning the park.
âCan you break past the mushroom ring from the inside?â Roman asked.
âYes,â Tourmaline answered, her wings buzzing. âI will oversee our escape if you free the others.â She touched his arm. âWe will not forget your aid, Roman Princey.â
âIt is still hidden,â Wrassey announced, dropping back down. âHe has not discovered it.â
A collective sigh of relief whispered among the trapped pixies.
âWhatâs still hidden?â Roman picked up another cage and ripped it apart, freeing its occupant. âWho did this to you?â
He tore open more cages as Wrassey alighted on his shoulder, talking so fast he had to concentrate to understand her.
âWe of Painter Clan are custodians of an artifact, gifted to us long ago by an Earthside Court. A Sidhe claiming to be the rightful owner came onto our lands three nights ago, demanding it. Some of us resisted, butâŠâ Her tiny voice trailed off. Wren swooped close and kissed her cheek before continuing to help Tourmaline carry the newly freed pixies to safety beyond the mushroom circle.
âThe terms were clear. It was never to be given back, no matter who asked,â Wrassey went on. Her small face crunched into a glower. âWe have been giving him false places to look.â
âThe holes,â Roman commented.
âMmm. He grows impatient. He knows we deceive him.â
âSo, he captures a bunch of you to torture, hoping one of you would break.â The revelation that a Sidhe did this made Roman nervous. Sidhe were among the highest order of Court Fae; beautiful, strong, skilled at warfare, and deadly.
He worked faster, hands burning with iron scorch. Half of the pixies freed. The unnatural silence of the park grated on his ears.
Three-quarters.
With luckâhe exhaled carefully, letting the glass bead sensation pass without partingâhe could save Tourmalineâs entire clan before the mysterious Sidhe returned.
âPainter Clan is strong. We do not break,â Wrassey snapped, but her wings drooped. âThe Sidhe who did this carries greed behind his eyes. I do not think he meant to free us once he had what he wanted. Another reason he must not possess the artifact.â
Roman was just breaking the last cage, surrendering its inhabitant into Tourmalineâs capable hands, when a voice thundered across the park.
âYou have misled me for the last time, vermin!â
Roman dropped the cage pieces and ducked behind the wagon, which only barely hid him, as a figure burst from a nearby clump of bushes.
The Sidhe stood willow tall and willow thin, his lily-white skin practically glowing against the dark trees. Narrow pointed ears swept back from his head, drawing the eye to a crown of red hibiscus nestled in his long, fiery orange hair. Orange also framed his night-black eyes; Roman couldnât tell if it was makeup or his own natural coloring. He wore blood red leggings, black boots, a woven tunic of clashing oranges, and a matching cravat, creating a look that landed, in Romanâs opinion, somewhere between âcolorblind Renn Faire enthusiastâ and âgay hairdresser on Halloweenâ.
âI will have the mirrorâs location,â the Sidhe bellowed, marching toward the wagon with that eerie gliding grace only Fae possessed. âOr I will begin slaughtering you one by oneâŠwhat is this?â
He stopped, staring at the pile of broken, empty cages andâRoman could have kicked himselfâRomanâs red-hilted katana, still stuck in the ground exactly where heâd planted it. The faeryâs orange-rimmed eyes went wide with fury.
âI could ask the same thing,â another voice called from the tree line, making the Sidhe whirl. Logan stepped out, arms folded behind his back.
âWho are you, Summerling, and what are you doing in my park?â Logan asked in crisp Faery, puffing out his chest.
Summerling. Roman inhaled. âSummer in the air. Death in the water. Watch your words.â Heâs a Summer Court Fae.
âYour park, Winter? Yours?â the Sidhe echoed, disdain dripping from each syllable.
Ice gathered and broke at Loganâs feet in nervous waves. His glasses caught the ambient light, obscuring his eyes, and for a moment, Romanâs brain flashed back to Sirâs multi-lens glasses, which he always parked on his face just before bringing out the scalpelsâ
He drew a sharp breath. Arcadian gods, he could not afford to have a flashback right now.
âWhat is he doing?â Roman grumbled to himself as he watched the half-faery, still keeping low, but the answer was obvious. Logan was distracting the Sidhe so that Roman could get away. But how did Logan plan on extracting himself?
Dammit, itâs not like Sherlock to blunder blindly into danger.
âRoman.â Wrassey tugged hard on Romanâs earlobe, making him wince. âYou must take the mirror away from Painterâs Pond.â
âShh!â He hissed back, eying the nearest tree trunk. âWe have to go and somehow get Lâer, Bear out of here.â
The Sidhe glided a few steps toward Logan, who stood his ground.
âYou must take it! Even without our cooperation, it is only a matter of time before he finds it.â Wrassey yanked on his ear again. âPlease.â
Roman ground his teeth. This could be their only opportunity to escape unseenâŠbut saving the clanâs artifact was clearly important to Wrassey, and dammit, she was Virgilâs favorite.
âWhere is it?â he asked softly.
The Sidhe had his back to the wagon now; maybe they had a chance.
âIn the wall.â Wrassey pushed his face to the right and pointed. âBehind the stone carved with a pixie.â
Right in the Sidheâs line of sight, because of course it was, but maybe the wall would hide him if he stayed low enough. Logan argued with the stranger now, moving his hands like Patton did when he got excited, keeping the faeryâs attention on himself.
Roman crept around the wagon, extracting his sword as he went. For half a second, he considered rushing the Sidhe and running him through. The only safe Sidhe was a dead one, or so went the Smile saying, and this one had already tortured and killed innocents. But Roman remembered his ill-fated bout on the Athens lawn with Deceit, who had not been a Sidhe, and whoâd almost killed Roman anyway.
I will not be as rash as everyone thinks I am, he thought, sheathing the blade and creeping toward the wall.
Loganâs eyes widened as he caught sight of Roman, and without even breaking his flow of words, he began circling the Sidhe, forcing him to turn away from the wall. The Sidhe crossed his arms and seemed, for the moment, content to let Logan ramble.
Heâs probably reciting the entire history of DeLand, Roman mused, ducking behind the wall and looking for Wrasseyâs stone. She buzzed her wings, giving light to see, and he finally spotted a crude drawing of a winged figure scratched onto one of the lower stones.
âIt is hollow behind,â Wrassey said. âThe facade should come away easily.â
âYou are no lord,â the Sidhe said scathingly as Roman dug his nails into the edges, tugging. Moveable or not, age had wedged the facade in hard, and he had no tools. He didnât dare look up to see how Logan was doing.
âYouâre not even a full-blooded Fae, are you?â The Sidhe laughed, his voice like fire snapping over dry logs. âA talkative half breed claiming territory. I have now seen it all.â
The faeryâs shift from Faery to near-perfect English sent a chill down Romanâs spine. In desperation, he stuck his sword blade into the wall and used it as a lever. But the angle was all wrong, the blade too long to be effective. He paused, panting.
âYou must break the facade,â Wrassey whispered.
âHeâll hear me!â Roman hissed back.
âIt is the only way.â
âI will have you knowââ Logan said after a shocked moment.
âOh, stop. The game is up. Where did you hear about the mirror, hmm? The Wild Hunt? Some pathetic solitary network?â The Sidhe paused.
âMirror?â Logan echoed.
âDid you really think youâd find it before I did? Did you honestly believeââ
Roman aimed a kick at the stone, which cracked but didnât crumble. He cringed when the faery cut off mid rant, but he didnât dare stop now. Three kicks later, the facade collapsed. He dug out the pieces, plunged a hand into the dark hole, and closed fingers around a flat, circular object. Wrassey alighted next to the hole, wings fluttering eagerly.
âThatâs it,â she chimed. âQuickly, nowââ
She shouted in surprise as a slim, hot hand clamped onto Romanâs shoulder.
enter through the alleyway
past the invisible door
and all the way down the escher staircase in the underworld
itâs not the same as before
Six months later
Stetson was small for a university. âIntimateâ, the brochure called it. Roman always assumed that Virgil, had it been up to him, would have preferred a sprawling campus where his dark, brooding, emo self could get comfortably lost in a sea of students. But Logan lived in DeLand, and Logan had been Virgilâs only option for staying hidden from his former faery master, Deceit.
So, after Deceit was dead and Virgil decided to finish his art degree after all, heâd come back to the one place he already knew. He was familiar with Stetsonâs campus, on good terms with his teachers, and friendly with the local solitaries.
Roman understood that. He didnât have to like it.
He cut the engine on his motorcycle and yanked off his helmet, flicking back sweat-damp hair. The campus seemed unusually empty; most students had probably gone home for spring break already. His bike was one of only five vehicles left in the University Hall parking lot.
Roman hung the helmet from the handlebars, stretched his arms, worked out the stiffness from his legs. Maybe biking all the way from Pennsylvania wasn't such a great idea. He told himself he'd ridden the bike so he could come and go on his own terms...but truthfully, he could have taken a bus just as easily. Heâd brought the bike to show off, to possibly persuade Virgil to take a ride with him while he was hereâŠ
But he was getting ahead of himself, as usual.
Roman eyed Virgilâs dormitory in the deepening twilight, scrubbing a hand through his hair again.
Maybe I should find a motel room first. He fished his phone out and slung his backpack over his back. Just so he doesn't feel like he has to offer his space. Just so it's not awkward.Â
He could use a walk after all that travel, anyway.
By the time he crossed the dark campus, he'd successfully booked a room. His finger then hovered over Virgil's number. A warning would be polite, especially when it came to Mr. Doesn't Like Surprises. Roman had initially come unannounced so Virgil couldn't talk him out of it, but Roman also didn't want to ruin the progress they'd made since Logan's and Patton's engagement party.
He scuffed his foot as he walked, thoughts swirling like gnats in the streetlights.
He wanted to believe earning that art degree was the only reason Virgil left Philly and returned to a state he admittedly hated, to the one middle-of-nowhere town where a certain former crush happened to live. Sure, Virgil transferring schools in his junior year would have been a needless headache. Heâd elected to live in the dorms instead of moving back into Loganâs and Pattonâs apartment. He called Roman nearly every week, keeping him updated, claiming heâd been too busy to see anyone except classmates and coworkers.
At the very least, Roman knew Virgil believed his own words. And if I'm not over Virgil, after all this time, he thought bitterly. What right do I have to complain if heâs not completely over Logan?
âChangeling,â a voice murmured in wet-sounding Faery.
Roman realized his wandering had carried him to the fountain at the center of Stetsonâs campus, lit up against the growing darkness. A long-limbed naiad lounged on the edge, watching him. She wore black clothes and fishnets like an ordinary human, but Romanâs changeling eyes picked out her waterfall of dripping white hair, bluish skin, and solid black Fae eyes.
Virgil had never mentioned any solitaries around the Stetson fountain. Roman casually brought his backpack around, unzipped it, and curled a hand around his sword hilt.
âWhat do you want?â he asked.
The naiad arched back, letting her hair spill into the water, where it undulated in the current like pale snakes. âYou wonât use that.â She gestured languidly at the bag.
Roman gripped the sword harder. âMaybe I would. You donât know.â
âYour steel has spilled our blood, but in moons long past. I can smell the difference. You brandish it now for bluster.â She sat up and grinned, showing a mouthful of needle-sharp teeth. âYou do not frighten me.â
Fucking enigmatic solitaries. He hated the way they saw straight through any human lie, no matter how carefully constructed. What did it say about him, that she could tell he hadnât had the stomach to hunt their kind for months? Roman reshouldered his bag and walked on, determined to ignore her.
âBeware pixie territory,â the naiad added as he passed.
Roman stopped but did not turn. âWhat?â
âSummer in the air. Death in the water.â She grinned again as he turned, eyes narrowed. âWatch your words.â
âWhat in the Arcadian hell are you talking about?â Roman snapped, fighting a chill.
 But the naiad slid into the fountain with an eerie lack of splash and lay underwater, ignoring him, and Roman knew heâd get no more from her. He scoffed and trudged toward the edge of campus.
Virgil maintained that the solitaries on Stetsonâs campus generally liked humansâwhich, in faery terms, meant the pranksters were mostly harmless and the rest kept to themselves. Plus, solitaries didnât normally pop out of the metaphorical woodwork and talk to Smile hunters, even lapsed ones.
âSummer in the air. Death in the water. Watch your words.â
Sheâd meant to warn him.
Pixie territory. The hair on his neck lifted. Could she mean Painterâs Pond?
He bit his lip. This sounded like a hunt.
He considered going back to Virgilâs dorm firstâŠbut Virgil wasnât Smile, and Virgil didnât know he was here yet. Roman didnât want their first reunion in months marred by faery drama. No, he would investigate the park and take care of the problem liked the damned hunter he was supposed to be.
Roman walked the few blocks to Painterâs Pond, slowing as he approached, his heart heavy with memories. Logan used to bring Virgil and Roman out here with Nic, and after Patton entered the picture, it became the four of them. He remembered chasing the dog and the pixies, Virgil laughing from the sidelinesâwhen they weren't at each otherâs throats. He could almost hear Virgil's low, gravelly voice saying "idiot," could picture him shaking his head with that maddening half-smile.Â
It occurred to him that Virgil might not necessarily be in his dorm; he could be at work, out prowling around downtown, orâRoman's heart skipped at the thoughtâright here on these familiar paths somewhere. Virgil's relationship with this park might be complicated, but surely he still visited his pixie friends from time to time.
Roman took a step onto the grass; his skin instantly prickled. The air feltâŠwrong, like the trembly hesitance he got before touching a staticky doorknob.
Oh, hell. That naiad did know something.
Roman had been a Smile hunter long enough to never ignore his gut. Faery magic was both insidious and nebulous; it wanted you to dismiss it as nothing, as imagination, as too much stress or not enough sleep. Arguably the most important lesson in faery hunting was learning to ignore that "reasonable" voice in your head.
The park looked empty, streetlamps spilling orange light in pools along the paths. But at the end of the park's low wall, one dark streetlight made a cradle of blackness, bordered by clusters of tiny, bone-white shrooms. A Court circle. Ambient streetlight glimmered off the white, white mushroom caps, especially when he looked out of the corner of his eye.
Roman stalked to the near end of the wall and ducked behind, letting his backpack slide off his shoulders. He opened the main flap and eased out his sword and scabbard, making as little noise as possible. He didn't draw it, yetâhe didn't know what he was facingâbut he did tie the scabbard to his belt loops.
He then drew in a careful breath and focused inward.
Romanâs old master, who only permitted his changelings to call him Sir, used to hang beaded curtains around his cave lair: intricate patterns picked out in thousands of minuscule beads, strings of fist-sized glass balls that bruised when one crashed into them at a run. Their clacking featured prominently in Romanâs nightmares; some of his earliest memories involved running and putting curtain after curtain between himself and his masterâs cruel experiments. That Unseelie had fancied himself a scientistâŠif careful butchery and elaborate torture could be considered science. And Roman happened to develop the one power guaranteed to drive such a master to unhinged fury: luck.
Roman learned to slip through those beaded strings like a ghost, disturbing them as little as possible so they wouldnât clack and betray his passage. He often wondered if that stealthy sidestep heâd cultivated led to him gaining the ability to touch something as ephemeral as possibility. Drawing on his power felt like running through Sirâs lair, each bead in each curtain representing an outcome. Every decision, every movement, even his thoughts parted the strands in different ways. The trick to manipulating luck, he discovered, was to find the beads you wanted while not disturbing the rest.
Know where youâre going.
Sidestep.
I need to know what is going on, he chanted silently.
Keep the rest quiet.
I need to see and to not be noticed by unfriendly eyes.
Pass through.
I need to know.Â
The back of his neck tingled, hairs rising as the familiar warm sensation of possibility slid glassily over his skin.
âWhat are you doing here?â a voice chimed in his ear.
Roman startled and found himself face-to-face with a soot-skinned, flame-haired pixie, whose tiny eyes were round oâs of surprise. She landed primly on the hand he instinctively raised.
âTourmaline?â he hissed. That was fast.
âI am not displeased to see you, Roman Princey,â she said. âBut it has been some time.â
Roman hid a cringe. He knew she only called him Princey because Virgil did, but now that particular nickname reminded him a little too much of Johnny Prince.
âI got a weird warning from a weird naiad and came to investigate.â he said, gesturing at the mushrooms. âWhatâs with the Court ring? I thought DeLand was still unclaimed.â
Tourmalineâs face grew pinched. She had always been more polite and serious than Virgilâs favorites, Wren and Wrassey. Roman suspected that was why Logan preferred her company.
âI believe this is the work of a single Court Fae working alone, though I have not seen them. The ring grew several days ago, and of more concern, many of my clan have since gone missing.â Her chiming voice dropped to a soft echo of itself. âI cannot penetrate the mushroom barrier myself, but I suspect that is where my sisters are.â
Well, that didnât sound good at all.
âCan I help?â Roman asked.
She cast him an appraising look, her gaze lingering on his sheathed sword. âYour appearance is auspiciously well-timed.â
âYou know me,â he said with a wink.
âIt so happens that my purpose in coming to the wall tonight was to seek the help ofâŠah.â
Her wings carried her over Romanâs head, and she buzzed hard enough for them to glow like a beacon. Roman followed the line of her gaze.
Oh, luck.
Logan Ursae, his straight-backed posture unmistakable even in the low light, crossed the grassy park and made a beeline for Tourmalineâs glowing body. Oddly, neither Patton nor Nicodemus were with him. The half-faery slowed as he noticed Roman crouched in the shadows.
âSâup, Nerdy Wolverine?â Roman shot him a jaunty salute.
Logan opened his mouth, shut it again, and sighed.
âIn the interest of saving time, I will not ask the obvious question,â he said in his low, resonant voice. âClearly your luck has carried you along as it usually does.â
âNice to see you, too.â Roman rolled his eyes.
Just as well I hadnât called Virgil yet.
Logan knelt, adjusting his glasses and peering over the wall. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked on his teeth.
âItâs still here?â he said to Tourmaline.
âYou donât sound surprised to see a Court ring in your stargazing park,â Roman commented.
âI have been monitoring it for several days now.â Logan scowled. âNormally, I would leave such things alone, as I try to stay clear of Court matters. But, if I have interpreted your message correctlyââhe glanced at the hovering pixieâ âWren and Wrassey are now among your missing kin?â
Tourmaline nodded.
Romanâs heart sank; sheâd meant âsistersâ literally. âDoes Virgil know? Those are his friends. Has he been here to see the ring?â
âI do not know.â Loganâs voice gave nothing away. âI have not seen him since he arrived in DeLand.â
Good, Romanâs mind supplied nastily, prompting a pang of guilt. âWhat are we gonna do?â
âI meant to attempt a crossing tonight,â Logan said. âTourmaline, am I correct in assuming solitary Fae are still barred?
The pixie settled onto Loganâs shoulder and nodded.
âAnd any human would just walk from one side to the other like it wasnât even there,â Roman added.
âYou know how Court-laid rings work.â Logan shot Roman a contemplative look.
âMay I remind you that Iâm a Smile hunter, Pain in the Nexus Instrument?â Roman snarked, grinning when Logan pulled a confused face. âEarthside Courts love their little magical pockets where they can lure in unsuspecting humans, or do their dirty work unobserved.â
âOr merely live their lives, safe from humans and Arcadian kin alike,â Logan added with a frown.
Roman waved that off. âWhatever the reason, it never occurs to them that a barrier like thisââhe gestured at the mushroom ringââdesigned to be inaccessible to Fae and invisible to humans, might still be vulnerable to us. Most of the time, Smile changelings can slip right in.â He stood and drew his sword in one swift motion. âWhich is what Iâm gonna do right now.â
tried to forget when i left this town
but it takes me right back when i come back around
It was quiet in the tiny motel room.
Not a complete absence of sound; no shared human space could replicate the unique hush of a mushroom ring in a dark forest. Humans were noisy, restless things, forever surrounding themselves with distractions and gadgets to reflect their noisy, restless souls back at them. This roomâs sad, gray air conditioner gurgled under the window like a hungry beast, exhaling icy air and dripping condensation. Distant car doors slammed outside; voices chattered; the parking lot buzzed with ambient road noise.
But it was quiet. The tiny TV on the dresser stood black and silent, its remote carelessly tossed on the bed next to a battered red backpack. The clock on the nightstand blinked teal numbers, cheerfully disconnected from anything resembling actual time. In the bathroom, the shower cut off with a squeak and a hiss.
Moments later, Roman stepped out in a cloud of steam, a white towel wrapped around his waist.
He shivered, gooseflesh prickling his bare skin. Cheap motel AC units never worked right; rooms were always either blazing hot or freezing cold. Usually the latter, bitter like lonely nights never spent in the same bed twice. Bleak like too many nightmares and too long running away from them. Cold like Bale territory and the regard of winter faeries.
Roman unfolded a white dress shirt from a shopping bag and spread it out on the bed. His nicest pair of dark wash jeans followed from his backpack, along with clean sneakers and, after some hesitation, his makeup bag. He combed fingers through his damp hair, grimacing at the moisture still dripping down his neck. Removing the towel from his waist, he dried it again before pulling on a pair of boxer briefs.Â
He left his sword where it was: spanning the length of his bag, safely tucked away. Heâd barely been able to look at the blade since killing Deceit, let alone hunt with it. ForâŠreasons.
Heâd get back to hunting one day. He would.
The starched shirt dragged stiffly across skin accustomed to simple cotton. He tucked it in, opened the first few collar buttons, and rolled up the sleeves. He could do fancy when necessary, but a hunter needed freedom to move. Socks, shoes, wallet, keysâŠand then there was only his makeup left to do.
He carried the small bag into the bathroom and studied his reflection with a critical eye. Messy hair, average brown skin, too-wide mouth, prominent nose, red changeling iris ringsâŠspectacular eye bags.
You look tired, pet, a melodious faery voice whispered in his memory.
âLike looking in a funhouse mirror,â he whispered back, his imagination painting a mustache and ghoulish purple eye makeup. Roman leaned closer and glowered at those dark circles, the inevitable result of too many troubled thoughts and not enough sleep.
Well, that wonât do at all. Bad enough I remind myself of my fetch; at this rate Iâll start looking like old Panic at theâŠ
Long bangs over snapping brown irises flashed through his mindâs eye; smokey eyeshadow against pale skin. A tiny smirk lifting the corner of a mouth, the one that always made Romanâs heart stutter⊠he pulled back his train of thought and ran a hand over his face.
He wonât be there.
Inhale.
He let out the breath in a huff, the hand over his eyes tightening for a moment, and inhaled again. You are going to this party to support Logan and Patton, and for no other reason. And if they see you like this, after not having seen you for months, they will worry.
He dropped his hand and straightened.
Lift the chin.
Eyes forward.
Focus.
Smile.
Roman forced up the corners of his mouth, seized a concealer tube, and set to work. A little foundation, a hint of blush for color, and only the thinnest of outlining around his eyes to finish the look. This was his friendsâ engagement party; it would be rude to show up looking like he was going clubbing. Plus, if Virgil was there, heâd probably make some snide remarkâŠ
Roman capped his eyeliner pencil with more force than needed and stalked back into the room proper. No one in his right mind would subject himself to an engagement party between his best friend and his crush. He wonât be there.
Kate would be, though.
I should call her. She deserves a heads up before I crash back into her life at a public event.
Roman pulled out his phone. He wasnât proud of the fact that heâd dropped off the face of the earth after killing Deceit, ignoring all attempts to reach him.
Even though Kate lied to him about his fatherâŠ
Stop. Roman scowled. Deceit wanted to drive that wedge between us. Too bad it had fucking workedâŠbut he wouldnât be petty. He scrolled to her number and dialed. She was still his foster mother. It was time.
Kate answered on the first ring.
âRoman,â she breathed, sounding so relieved that Romanâs whole face grew hot. It had been weeks since heâd heard her voice, and he hadnât realized until that moment just how much heâd missed it.
âYeah, itâs me.â He paced the room, injecting a note of false cheeriness into his voice. âIâm, ah, in town. Was planning to crash Logan and Pattonâs thing tonight.â
Silence. Roman could almost hear the gears turning in her head.
Will she lecture, or act like I never left? Sometimes Kate played the part of a stern parent; other times, a commanding officer. Most of the time, however, she was something between an eccentric, cool aunt and best friend. Her authenticity was one of the things Roman valued most in their relationship. He could always be real with her because she was always real with him.
Except, apparently, when it came to my parentageâŠ
He shoved the traitorous thought down. That was not a discussion to be had over the phone.
âYou know the party started ten minutes ago, right?â Kate finally settled on.
âYou know you should always arrive fashionably late, right?â Roman snarked.
âWhatever, kid.â Her voice softened. âIâm glad youâre okay. IâŠIâm not gonna lie, I did worry.â
Roman closed his eyes. âSorry for disappearing and not telling you.â
âYouâre an adult; you can make your own choices. I know you needed time after everything.â Kateâs voice dropped. âBut next time you feel the urge to vanish? A headâs up for your poor mentor and her poor worried wife would be appreciated.â
In a vain attempt to not show favoritism within her murder, she never called herself his mother. Roman was used to it. Actions spoke louder than words with Kate.
âNoted.â Roman sat on the bed, wondering if the rest of his murder had missed him. If they saw him differently now that they knew who he truly wasâŠ
But heâd called Kate for a reason.
âUm, Kate? Is, uhâŠis Virgil withâŠI mean, heâs doing okay?â Roman tried to sound casual, and knew heâd failed miserably.
âOh, I see how it is.â Kateâs tone lightened to something gently amused. âYou only called to find out if you were going to run into your beau tonight.â
âHeâs just a friend.â Romanâs face heated, and he was glad she wasnât physically in the room to rib him for it. âAnd maybe I wanted to hear the sultry sound of your voice as well!â
âI think you were hoping to hear someoneâs sultry voiceââ
âKaaaaate.â Roman groaned.
âOh, both of you are so easy to embarrass.âKate chuckled. âYou really havenât talked to him in the last two months?â She sounded surprised.
âI havenât talked to anyone.â Roman paced to the motel window, peeking out onto the depressing parking lot. âIâŠhonestly donât know if Virgil and I are still on speaking terms after everything thatâs happened.â
Kateâs concern radiated over the line so hard he could practically feel it, making him glower.
âWas he thinking about coming to this party?â he asked.
âIâm not sure. He stayed with us to finish recovering and then left Philly a week ago, claiming he would make his own way down. You know how prickly he gets about people paying his way.â
Romanâs heart skipped so hard he missed a breath. âSoâŠthatâs a yes.â
âWell, he didnât clarify if âdownâ actually meant âFloridaâ and âthis partyâ. Rosa and I only got into Orlando last night, and we havenât heard from him at all,â Kate went on. âHe may show up, he may not. But RomanâŠI wouldnât get your hopes up. After the hospital, and these last few weeks especially, heâs looked about one scowl away from hitting the road for good. If he was one of my hunters, Iâd have expected to wake up and find him gone weeks ago.â
âYeah, thatâsâŠnot surprising, I guess,â Roman said. He remembered Virgil lying in that hospital bed, bandaged and frail, tubes sprouting everywhere. Anyone would want to run away from that.
Technically, Roman had run away.
âAfter the party, are youâ?â Kate hesitated. âAre you coming home? If you still need more time, thatâs fine, butââ
âHow can I, Kate?â Roman closed his eyes. âHow do I walk back into Smile like nothing happened, after what Deceit said back in that castle? About me beingâŠbeingââ
âJohnny Princeâs son,â Kate finished lowly. âI know. You want to know why I never told you.â
âYou recruited me into an organization founded by my own father!â Roman burst out, stalking back to the bed. âHow could you not tell me?â
So much for not doing this over the phone.
âThatâs exactly why I didnât tell you.â Kateâs voice sharpened. âImagine growing up with everyone expecting you to live up to a strangerâs legacy. I was planning to tell you once you became a full hunter, Roman, because I wanted you to know youâd earned that on your own merit and not on Johnnyâs reputation.â
âAnd Deceit ruined that,â Roman said bitterly.
âThat Unseelieâs name doesnât deserve space in your mouth,â Kate snapped.
âWhat are the others going to say?â Roman paced the tiny room. âJohnnyâs a fucking legend, even if he did cut and run. Iâm just me.â
âIt doesnât matter where you came from or who your father was. All that matters is the man and the hunter youâve become. You know Smile will always be waiting when youâre ready to come home.â Her voice grew soft.
Romanâs heart pinched. He knew Kate meant heâd always have a home with herâŠbut of course Smile would always be waiting for the son of Johnny Prince, he thought bitterly. How could it not?
âIâll see you tonight?â she said.
âYeah,â he echoed. âSee you.â
He hung up and let out a long sigh. It does matter where I came from, Kate. Other people will care, whether you think so or not.
âDamn it,â he muttered, only just stopping himself from scrubbing his face and messing up his makeup. Maybe it was just as well he hadnât been able to track down Johnny. Roman still hadnât decided if heâd have hugged his old man or punched his lights out.
#
The motel heâd chosen wasnât far from the park, so Roman elected to burn some restless energy by walking to the party. He stepped onto Woodland Avenue and prowled downtown, passing familiar buildings: the upstairs pool hall, the old yoga studio, that weird underground Christian coffee shop, their little grocery store. Every sight and smell in this town carried memories.
The Main Street diner where the four of themâhimself, Virgil, Logan, and Pattonâ sometimes used to eat was gone, he noted; replaced with yet another generic copycat that would probably only last a few months. Their beloved Santoriniâs lived on, thank goodness, loud and lively at this time of night.
Merlinâs Vision, the little witchy shop where Virgil used to work, had moved to a larger corner location. Even after hours, the musky scent of nag champa lingered and clung to Romanâs skin as he slowed, looking at the window display of wands, dragon figurines, and kitschy, stockinged faeries. Thereâd been a time when Roman associated nag champa with Virgil almost as much as patchouli. Smelling it now brought back a familiar wave of sadness and want.
âOne day you will ache for something your stolen power canât give you. And I look forward to cataloguing all the ways that will destroy you,â his former master crooned in his memory, eyes glinting bright silver.
Roman smiled at the sight of a particular figurine: a knight on a white horse, clad in silver plate, spear leveled at a green dragon curled around a tower. Like many captured changelings, Roman had learned to read in the Hedgerow: a scattered network of Arcadian adults and teenagers whoâd taken it upon themselves to educate as many children in faery captivity as possible. Heâd always gravitated towards tales of Camelot, of King Arthur and his brave, loyal knights questing for the Holy Grailâwhich, in Romanâs childhood mind, had been freedom.
âOne day you will ache for something your stolen power canât give you.â
Roman sighed, biting back the sting in his eyes, and tilted his head to stare at the October sky. Maybe coming back here after everything was a mistake.
But Patton made a point to give him the date and time of this party before Roman dropped off everyoneâs radar. Patton would be hurt if he didnât show up, all because Roman couldnât handle being in a town where every little thing reminded him of one particular person.
Iâm tired of running, Roman told himself. When I do see Virgil againâŠI want to be able to find some closure, whatever that looks like. For both of us. Heâd been telling himself the same thing for two months.
He reckoned it was getting easier.
Chin up, eyes on the target.
Roman walked on.
He heard the party before he reached Painterâs Pond; an acoustic version of some vaguely familiar pop song spilled from the trees onto the sidewalk. Roman paused at the parkâs edge, a smile pulling at his face. Streamers hung from trees, round tables surrounded one of the parkâs open spaces, and tiki torches cast a warm yellow light on knots of milling people. The food table looked thoroughly picked over, but Roman hadnât come with any expectation of eating.
He scanned the crowd, smiling when he spotted Kate and Rosa twirling each other on the dance âfloorâ; he remembered when theyâd taken swing lessons together. Patton was, amusingly, dancing with Loganâs mother. He didnât see Logan at allâŠuntil he did, and the sight made him draw in a sharp breath.
Logan sat at the table furthest away from the band, leaning back in a chair and talking to someone with long purple bangs, a hunched pose, and a heartbreakingly familiar patched jacket. Roman exhaled again, his heart thrumming into high gear in his chest.
Virgil.
He had to blink several times to make sure he wasnât hallucinating.
Virgil showed up after all. ButâŠwhy?
The last time heâd seen his emo, heâd been stretched out on a hospital bed with his chest all bandaged up, unconscious. Now he was justâŠhere, sitting with Logan like the half-faery hadnât broken his heart into a million pieces.
Logan looked particularly sharp tonight: hair immaculately braided, gold tie nestled at his throat, his nicer pair of glasses perched on his nose. Roman hated to admit it, but his pansexual ass understood why Virgil had gotten his heart in such a mess over this guy. Logan was smart, poised, and annoyingly, effortlessly sexy, with those cheekbones, that posture that showed off his chest, and those soul-piercing, fae eyes.
He was also a know-it-all, stubborn, and more unforgivingly, an oblivious asshole when it came to other peopleâs hearts.
Roman ground his teeth when Logan laid a hand on Virgilâs arm, leaning close. Virgil twisted his head away, but to Romanâs surprise, he looked back and said something that made the nerd smile. Familiar, sour jealousy bloomed in Romanâs heart.
Even now, at his own damned engagement party to someone else, Logan just canât leave Virgil alone, can he?
Logan got up to join Patton on the dance floor, squawking in protest when Patton grabbed his hand and spun him around. Roman took a deep breath, recentering himself, knowing he wasnât being fair. As much as he hated what this had to be doing to Virgil, Logan and Patton made an objectively adorable couple. Honestly, Pattonâs warmth and sweetness were probably exactly what Logan needed to work that metaphorical stick out of his ass.
Virgil remained at the table, alone.
Heâd put his back directly to Roman now, making it impossible to see his expression. Was he still pining, even after all this time? Was he here just to torture himselfâŠor did his presence tonight mean heâd finally turned a corner, put the feelings behind him for good? Roman bit his lip, abruptly unsure if he was ready to know.
Now, more than ever, he wanted to melt back into the shadows and pretend heâd never come, Pattonâs Disappointed Dad face be damned. The thought of looking into Virgilâs cynical, piercing eyes with their mismatched ringsâŠwhat would Roman even say to him? The last thing theyâd done together was fight, which ended with Roman punching him in the face, and then theyâd been too busy dealing with Deceit to even begin to reconcile.
He also remembered that claw, blossoming like a red thorn from VirgilâsâŠdying, he could have diedâŠ
Roman shuddered and covered his mouth, letting the trembling and redness in his vision pass. He couldnât think about that, not even for a moment, or heâd never sleep tonight. He had to be brave, like Sir Lancelot and Bedwyr the One-Handed and poor doomed Tristan.
Inhale for four.
Hold for seven.
Exhale for eight.
When he could breathe again, he squared his shoulders, took a breath, and walked to Virgilâs table.
I've finally written a sequel to Mahogany and Teakwood!
Mahogany and Teakwood was supposed to be a standalone, one that I honestly didnât expect to get as many sweet comments and love as it has. Thank you for that, everyone whoâs read it :)Â As of today, itâs been exactly 3 years since I started posting, so I thought that would be an auspicious time to start posting the next story in the series.
Rose and Patchouli started as a desire to see where Roman and Virgilâs relationship went after they left that party, and as to why it took me nearly two years to writeâŠ
Iâm officially published!
I think I've said it here before, but one of my original series got picked up by an indie publisher in late 2021, which means Iâve had to focus the majority of my writing time on that. If youâre curious about my non-fanfic work, these are the two books I have out so far:
Hands Like Secrets
Secrets Like Glass
Iâm also still trying to break into traditional publishingâŠitâs slow and hard, but hopefully Iâll get there!
Not only was I busy with other writing and just life in general, but Rose and Patchouli, it turns out, was a hard story to write; very different from M&T. Virgil, for some reason, is an easy head for me to get into. Roman? Not so much. Heâs a fascinating character, and I love him to death, but there is a lot going on in that brain to wrangle. I wrote myself into so many corners. I rewrote the outline twice, and ended up deviating from it anyway.Â
Iâm pretty pleased with the result.
Like I did with the last story, I'll post the first 3 chapters here, and excerpts after that. AO3 link is here, Wattpad link is here.
Holy moly, y'all. You all have only seen the last five...five?...months of this journey, but in actuality, I started this story way back at the very beginning of this crazy year. It's going to be weird, not updating every Wednesday and Saturday.
If you've made it to the end, thank you so, so much for reading. I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed reading your comments and reactions, they are my daily serotonin  đ If you came for the analogical and stayed for the prinxiety, thanks for trusting me and I wish there were better tags. This was a love triangle story before it was even a faery story, and I hope I did it justice.
I will definitely be coming back to this universe in the future. I have a whole series planned around the Grimm Founders (which probably won't be posted here; I'm hoping to get it properly published), and I feel like Virgil's and Roman's story definitely isn't finished yet. I'm also currently writing a Sanders Sides/Doctor Who pseudo-crossover and hope to have that finished in the next few months.
Anyway, this has been fun, and I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have!
Want to start the story at the beginning...or reread it, maybe? Hereâs the AO3 link and the Wattpad link.
An excerpt from the Epilogue:
Painterâs Pond glittered with fireflies in the stifling October air. Orange sunbeams made dark shadows under the trees; in a few minutes, the sunset would be truly spectacular.
Yellow streamers hung from tree branches; citronella tiki torches separated the party area from the rest of the park. A single long table had been set up off to one side, stacked with paper plates and utensils, ready to receive guest offerings. Several more round tables laid with navy cloths ringed the empty center space.
The setup was a mix of whimsical and practical, joyful and serene, as unconcerned with appearances as the eclectic couple it celebrated. Â
Virgil slid his plate of thumbprint jam cookies (Crofters, of course) onto the long table and wrapped hoodie-clad arms around himself. Heâd debated showing up to this party for so long that in the end heâd panicked about being late and, predictably, arrived way too early.
Patton and Logan werenât even here yet.
He took a deep, careful breath, rubbing the raised scar under his purple dress shirt. It didnât ache, just now, but Virgil had learned not to push himself. He wandered, his pace slow and halting, ghosting fingers over the dark tablecloths that reminded him of Loganâs apartment, touching the hanging golden streamers that screamed Patton.
In another lifetime, Virgil thought wistfully, would they have been purple instead of gold?
The thought didnât hurt as much as it would have, three months ago.
The whole chapter can be found over on AO3 or Wattpad. As always, tell me what you think! :)
Virgil cried out as his body collapsed, like all his bones had simultaneously forgotten how to be a skeleton; one by one the others met the same fate. Free from his need to keep Rapunzel and a roomful of fetches under control, Deceit had the full brunt of his powers at his command again.
And Kate just sent the rest of Smile after the other snake!
Technically it was still seven against one, but two of those seven were preoccupied or barely conscious, and Deceit had managed to get the jump on the rest.
Virgil fought the thrall, chest burning, but his limbs simply refused to move.
âNow,â the faery crooned, curling his forked tongue around one of his fangs. He licked the tip of one of his long, bladed nails as he approached. âI think this defiance has gone quite far enough. Letâs see.â
He paused next to a collapsed Rosa, still out cold, and Kate, who watched with wide, helpless eyes. The faery bent and nicked Rosaâs face under each eye, drawing a small drop of blood with each cut.
âI need this one awake, so we can keep those pesky changeling powers under control.â
Rosa came to with a gasp. She tried to close her eyes several times, face contorting as they kept flaring back open.
Deceit moved on to Kate, who glared.
âThis one, we can let sleep,â he crooned, scratching her forehead.
Then to Patton. âSame with you.â
To Virgilâs horror, both their eyes fluttered shut as he pricked their skin. Heâs using some ungodly combination of venom and blood magic.
Rapunzel he ignored, apparently deciding she was too weak to cause him any trouble. Virgil braced himself, knowing he was next.
âRoman!â Loganâs voice shouted, sounding unnaturally strained. âRoman, leave the fetch and run!â
Deceit whirled with a snarl.
Logan had thrown the thrall enough to climb to his knees, and then to his feet. His eyes burned white and he cupped his hand, crystalline frost creeping over his fingersâŠ
âOh, no you donât, half blood!â Deceit made a grabbing motion and a sickly yellow light swirled around Loganâs body, shattering the ice and rendering him immobile. Logan growled, splaying his hands, clearly fighting with everything in him.
Come on, Logan, Virgil prayed. In one last stroke of luck, perhaps, Logan had distracted Deceit before he could poison Virgil into unconsciousnessâŠand Virgil had fallen facing the podium, so he could see everything that was happening.
But what good will that do me if I canât break free?
Deceit tightened his fist and Loganâs legs moved, stiffly walking the half-faery to the fallen podium.
âRemus!â The faery called as he followed, flicking his other hand. âEnough play time; I need to borrow your toy.â
Romanâs and Remusâ battle had carried them to the far side of the room. Nevertheless, Remus reacted immediately, blocking one last blow and sending Roman stumbling. Roman recovered, lifting his sword, but then Deceitâs sickly light encased his head and his limbs went slack.
Virgil swore under his breath.
Deceit walked him like a marionette to the podium, Remus trailing behind and giggling.
I canât let him do this. I canât let him win. Virgil had no doubt that once Deceit had secured his altered Accords, he would kill them all while they lay helpless.
The whole chapter can be found over on AO3 or Wattpad. Weâre almost to the end, woot! As always, tell me what you think! :)
In which Deceit finally gets to the point, some leverage is removed, and an eleventh hour trash man arrives on the scene...
New to the story? Want to start at the beginning? Hereâs the AO3 link and the Wattpad link.
An excerpt from Chapter 42:
A stunned silence fell over the crowd of Smile.
Deceit smirked, and sniggered, and twirled his staff, utterly confident in his control of the situation. Virgil wanted to punch him.
This was almost worse than using Rapunzel to manipulate Logan.
A revelation like this would throw everything Roman thought he knew about himself into question; and as a fear feeder, Deceit would grow more powerful off the blowback.
âAnd youâŠyou knew?â Roman added, taking a step towards Kate.
âNot right away!â she cried, raising a hand and dropping it again. âAfter Johnny abandoned Smile and fucked off to gods know where, after I took overâŠwe kept tabs on Vanessa for her own safety. We knew she had a son, but nobody knew heâd beenâŠthat youâd beenâŠtaken.â
Her face contorted. âAnd then there you were, in that Grimm safehouse all those years later, and you looked just like Johnny did at that that age. And weâd always gotten reports of Vanessaâs son getting into weird, violent trouble, which never sat right with meâŠâ
Roman stared like sheâd slapped him; Kate, on the other hand, looked utterly heartbroken.
âThatâs why you singled me out for Smile.â Roman rubbed his face. âThatâs how you knew exactly how to find my mother. And thatâŠthing, that replaced me.â
Someone in the hall made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a giggle.
Kate nodded, looking around the room. Her agents were watching with wide eyes now, gazes flickering between her and Roman.
Virgil exhaled, slowly.
Roman is Johnny Princeâs son.
Holy Arcadian gods, KateâŠthat is one hell of a secret to sit on. You should have told himâŠat the very least to prevent it being used against him like this!
âI wasnât completely sure until you came back and told me about the fetch,â Kate said quietly. âIf I hadnât happened across youâŠwe would have never known. Youâd have been just another changeling. I always thought it had to be fate, or pure dumbââ
âLuck,â Roman finished in a hushed voice, his eyes wide.
Virgil felt a chill run down his spine.
Had Romanâs own magic brought him and Kate together? Just how far-reaching was Romanâs luck?
âYes, thank you, Johnnyâs Princeâs son, everyone.â Deceit gave Roman a mocking round of clapping. âCan everyone focus back on me, please? Thank you. Now.â
The faery thumped his snake staff on the floor again.
Two fetches rushed out of the room and reappeared carrying a podium, of all things, which they placed in front of Deceit. The faery leaned onto it, looking for all the world like a prosecutor in a courtroom, supremely confident in his case.
Virgil noticed some of the other fetches touching and shaking their heads as this happened, and he exchanged a significant look with Kate. The more Deceit pushed individuals to carry out specific orders, the less control he kept over the group.
They had to use that.
They needed to wake Rapunzel.
âNow that we have our three key persons, as Logan put it, perhaps he and Roman would like to approach the podium,â the faery ordered, snapping his copy of the Accords open and laying it in front of him.
Virgilâs heart raced.
If he makes them sign it, fetch-making will be âlegalâ again. Faeries like Deceit will have free reign. Smile might even have to let him go. Iâll never be free of him!
I canâtâŠI canât let him do that!
The whole chapter can be found over on AO3 or Wattpad. Weâre almost to the end, woot! As always, tell me what you think! :)
Deceit holds Rapunzelâs mind hostage. How are they going to free her, and stop his plan?
New to the story? Want to start at the beginning? Hereâs the AO3 link and the Wattpad link.
An excerpt from Chapter 41:
Virgilâs eyebrows shot up.
I meanâŠdamn.
Roman exhaled, his nostrils flaring. He didnât smile, but there was a pleased set to his jaw as he lined up his blade.
âLoganâŠâ Pattonâs eyes were wide.
âHe has given us no other option,â Logan said firmly.
It touched Virgilâs heart that Patton couldnât bear to watch a faery, even this faery, be killed in front of him. And again, it ticked Virgil off that Deceit had been able to trick him into believing that lying, murderous ass was his soft hearted friend.
Patton inhaled, but Logan took his hand and gently kissed the knuckles.
(Which didnât hurt to watch.)
âDeceit,â Roman said. âIf that is your real nameââ
âIt is,â the faery answered flippantly. He continued to hang from Loganâs chains, head still tilted up, almost deliberately baring his throat.
âDo you confess to dealing in fetches?â
A hush fell over the hall. It had been quiet before, but Virgil sensed that the rest of Smile were actively listening now. There was something ritualistic about Romanâs tone, as though he needed this in order to do as Logan asked.
Deceit looked pointedly around the room, at his horde of quietly waiting dolls, and looked back at Roman as if to say, âDuh.â
Romanâs jaw clenched.
âDo you confess to compelling human thralls to make said fetches?â
Deceit rolled his head up and looked straight into Virgilâs eyes.
âMmm,â the faery said with a sharp grin. âAnd they were so good at it.â
Tense silence.
Deceit held Virgilâs gaze for a long moment, as though waiting for him to break and confess. It took every ounce of courage Virgil possessed not to wither under that snake-eyed stare, but for once in his lifeâŠhe held his chin high and managed it, though his hands trembled violently at his sides.
âThen, in accordance with the Accords,â Roman said, laying the edge of his blade across Deceitâs neck. âYou must die for your crimes.â
Virgil gritted his teeth, flashing back to that night in Loganâs apartment; Roman whispering âsmileâ into Loganâs ear as steel sliced into his neckâŠ
Roman leaned in.
His mouth openedâŠ
From the dais, Rapunzel let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Kate and Rosa both staggered back with raised hands, as though to say âwhat the hell?â Loganâs mother, still lying between them, screamed again.
Deceit began to laugh.
Rapunzel screamed for a third time, longer and more hoarsely, ending in a whimper. Loganâs hands were in fists and his irises had gone blank white.
âWait!â he said in a strangled voice.
The whole chapter can be found over on AO3 or Wattpad. And as always, tell me what you think! :)
In which all the die are cast, all the players are in place, and Deceit starts to lay out his plan...
New to the story? Want to start at the beginning? Hereâs the AO3 link and the Wattpad link.
An excerpt from Chapter 40:
âDeceit?â Virgil echoed in horror.
Pattonâs freckles and familiar clothes blurred away to reveal a black cape and a smirking, half scaled face.
âWhoâs she? Never heard of her,â Deceit drawled, his snake eye flashing. âHonestly Virgil, itâs so difficult to get you riled up. It didnât take you long enough to figure it out.â
Virgil was too stunned to speak.
âI suppose the hair is meant to be âedgyâ? WellâŠâ Deceit shook his head. âYou did try. Also, I adore the more intense eyeshadow, it totally doesnât make you look like a raccoon.â
Some of Virgilâs shock caught and smoldered.
âNice gloves,â he snarked back. âDid you just finish washing some dishes?â
Deceit examined his sleek, yellow-clad fingersâŠbut his eyes flickered to Roman. And the way Roman grinned and twirled his sword, and the way Deceitâs gaze followed, told Virgil the barb had hit a little close to home.
ââŠyes,â the faery said.
Virgil recalled that Roman had cut off most of Deceitâs fingers with that sword, last time they met.
Roman and Kate both advanced on Deceit; the faeryâs expression grew flat and serious again.
âOh, I wouldnât,â he warned, raising a gloved hand.
Virgil gasped as two faeries with slender horns and cruel faces detached from the darkness, wicked-looking crossbows poised and aimed at the two Smile agents.
Where the fuck did they come from? Virgil ducked down next to Rapunzel. Have they been here the whole time, while I was alone with âPattonâ?
Were they just waiting for him to reveal himself?
Would they have shot me if Roman and Kate hadnât shown upâŠ?
His breath was coming in short, shallow gasps.
âVirgil,â Logan said quietly, breaking through Virgilâs noisy thoughts the way only his voice could. âWould you please see to my mother while we take care of this?â
Rapunzel.
In the shock of unmasking Deceit, Virgil had almost forgotten that she needed help, too. Bless Logan for giving him something to focus on. He needed to calm down, and focus, and they all needed to get the fuck out of here.
Virgil tentatively nudged Rapunzelâs shoulder.
âHey,â he whispered. âUm, Ms. Ursae? R..Rapunzel? You gotta snap out of it.â
She didnât stir.
This was the first time Virgil had seen Loganâs mother up close. She looked to be around the same age as Kate and Rosa, with crowâs feet and touches of gray in her long black hair. She was slender and dark, but solid-boned, like Logan. Virgil actually saw a lot of similarities in their facial features: same shape to the eyes, same full lips, same narrow chin.
Virgil secretly decided that Logan hadnât inherited all his good looks from his faery father.
âRapunzel,â he rasped again, shaking her harder.
When she still didnât stir, he sat back on his heels and chewed his lip. In a burst of inspiration, he laid his bear pendant on her chest.
Still nothing.
Why wasnât she waking up? What was he supposed to do? He wished he knew her real nameâŠnames had power, especially here in Arcadia properâŠbut he couldnât exactly ask now, with Deceit likely to overhear.
Virgil glanced up to see Logan stepping down from the dais. He decided to follow, even though the move took him far closer to Deceit than he wanted. Deceitâs minions had closed in on Roman and Kate; they menaced, and the two Smile agents menaced back, but neither party could do much of anything until someone decided to start shooting.
Virgil suspected if Deceit actually wanted them to shoot, theyâd have done it while they were still out of sight. That meant the faery wanted Roman and Kate occupiedâŠbut unharmed.
For now.
The whole chapter can be found over on AO3 or Wattpad. And as always, tell me what you think! :)