Ashes of the Fae: (Leila Davis Book 1) Read online

  “I…I did kill the first one, Leila. I know I did. I’ve done this long enough to know, but this was a different one. All I know, all I can tell you, is that there are never more than two in the same place. It’s not possible.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes…I am.” His eyes held a confidence I forced myself to believe. I just hoped he wasn’t wrong this time.

  The clumsy officer drove us to my house long enough to get Maddy’s car and pick up Iris, but we weren’t allowed inside. All they brought out for us were his keys, and we were on our way quickly.

  “Here?”

  I was surprised. When he said he had a place to stay, I hadn’t expected it to be a cabin, one of a few quaint log buildings with grand fireplaces I had visited James’ late family and friends at in the past, but never stayed myself.

  Iris still slept soundly in the back seat when we arrived.

  “Is here…alright?” He seemed confused by my surprise, unsure how to take it. His grip grew stiff around the wheel, his foot easing on the brake as he shot me a series of sideways glances.

  “What? No, I mean yes. I didn’t mean it like that. I just—you know there are cheaper places to stay, right?”

  “Ah, I didn’t really think of that, I guess.” The headlights dimmed as we removed our seatbelts, looking at the shabby state of one another in the glow of the parking lights and each greeting the other with a fond smile. “It’s the most comfortable thing I can find away from home…”

  “Home?” I’d never considered he had a real home. He’d struck me as a live-out-of-a-suitcase kind of guy, but then I never did ask. Jingling his keys, he grabbed a bag out of the trunk, his familiar trench coat draped over it. I met him at the base of the stairs with Iris wrapped up snugly in my arms. Soft, golden lights lit up the windows of the forest cottage. The woods smelled of cool pine and turned earth. It was all so inviting.

  “Where’s home, exactly?”

  “Hmm, far away from here.”

  “How very vague of you.”

  He opened the door for us slowly, the visual warmth of the interior woods and fall colors filling me with a comfort. A conventional little kitchen sat on the right with a four-chaired table, and a doorway to a bedroom stood cracked slightly on the left. In front of me was a short hallway adorned with several doors, and beside that was a thick branch ladder leading up to a star-lit loft.

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t get any of your things.” He frowned as he shut the door, locking it and then setting his things on the table beside it.

  “No, it’s fine. Not like I need clothes anyway.” I meant it playfully, but he didn’t seem amused by the comment. In fact, he looked like he was about to pass out from exhaustion. “I do need a shower though.”

  “Oh, of course.” He looked down at himself, gauging his cleanliness before reaching his arms out. “I can take her to bed, if that’s alright with you.” I nodded, tickled by the fatherly gesture.

  He cradled her carefully, taking every care in the world not to wake her and rocking her gently to keep her asleep.

  “Through here, to the left,” he whispered, making his way down the hall. As he turned in a pause, I rushed up to him, standing on my tiptoes to kiss his chin, but I spooked him in my hurry. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Hmm? Oh no…” He delighted me with a soft peck before opening the door to the right with his shoulder. “Just been a long day.”

  “Agreed.”

  He soon reappeared as I met him with a hug, picking at the starched fabric of his grey gown-like top. I could smell the must of bloody leftovers and stagnant dirt between us as I wriggled my nose. “You can join me, you know, in the shower if you want. No pressure.” I pressed my body a bit closer to his, looking up to see a coy smile tease his lips, his head shaking in amazement.

  “Do you have any self-control?” he chuckled, kissing my forehead.

  “Do you?”

  “I do—”

  My brow furrowed in disbelief at his unconvincing tone. His pearly whites now shone through a guilt-ridden sigh. “Okay, I did. But I still try.”

  “And I did before I met you,” I admitted gladly, running a finger along the curve of his neck and sending a subtle shiver through him. “And why on earth would you try to control yourself, silly.”

  “I just don’t want you thinking that’s all I want. I’d hate if you thought that.”

  “Maddy, if you took me every waking hour I wouldn’t think that. I might be a bit sorer and a lot more bow-legged, but no less satisfied.” He was blushing again, madly. “Yes, you take that flattery, mister. You take it.”

  He squeezed me tighter, lifting me off the ground. His hot breath slithered past my ear as he whispered, feverishly, “I’ll give you something to take.”

  “Oh, Mister Maddox, where is your self-control?” I joked, giggling as I brought up my hands in front of me to tug at his shirt with my fists. His face buried in my neck playfully, and I felt the walls of my loins begin to swell with his words—more so when he erupted with a devilish laugh before leaning down to smother me with a kiss.

  “Mmm…” he moaned, cutting the deep kiss short with an abrupt peck before lowering me back down, sniffing. “But yes, shower. You go ahead. I’ll join you in a few.”

  “Hmph…” I whined, nibbling on his shoulder before he made his way into his room. “Promises, promises.”

  The bathroom was lavish with all things woodsy. Even the sink counter was a huge raw wood cutout. A stand-up shower stood in the farthest corner, the toilet across from it, and a huge Jacuzzi tub just inside across from the sink. As I turned on the shower, it called to me, the steam filling the bathroom.

  I hadn’t noticed the now crusty bodily fluids that occupied my inner thighs before. My chest and stomach were still lightly caked with flaky dried blood. The hot water welcomed me, washing away the dirty remnants as I started to lather up with a balmy-smelling bar of soap. I had managed to get the bulk of my hair with it before I felt a rush of cool air pour in, and I dropped the soap. I saw him catch it midair as he climbed in to join me.

  “Hi there…” I greeted, trying not to act like I was startled.

  “Hi,” he chuckled, handing me the soap before sliding the door closed behind him. Shamelessly, I gawked at his nakedness, the fit bod of a working man. I couldn’t help but admire the entirety of his nude physique as he tried to ignore my prying eyes, standing there a bit aimlessly. My eyes then opened widely as I stared at his nether regions, lightly brushed with a thin layer of dark hair that traveled from below his unscathed bellybutton to his groin.

  “And here I thought you were a redhead,” I giggled, squeezing the water from my hair.

  “You did?”

  “Mmhm, being Irish and all.”

  “It’s actually not as common as you’d think.” He followed my downward glance, his mannerisms still a bit bashful, like he was trying to figure out if he should cover himself or not. I never thought such a brawny man could look so vulnerable.

  “You wanna know something?” I said, reaching for his hands as I pulled him under the water with me and lathered his toned chest with soap, the water from him running dark and murky.

  “Hmm?”

  “You are just so incredibly…sexy.” I ran slick hands up and down his cascading muscles, over his shoulders and up the sides of his neck as his head tilted back, his body twitching in a shiver. “It’s kind of unbearable.”

  “You’re crazy.” He smiled, his eyes closed and head rolled to the sides as I massaged the tense knots.

  “Maybe, but I’m honest.”

  He looked down at me with those intense eyes, running his hands down my wet hair until they settled on my back.

  “Turn around.” He gestured with his head, taking the soap from my grasp as I felt his terrific hands remove mountains of stress from my body. He rubbed deep and slow through the slip of the lather, all down the length of my back.

  I didn’t mean to moan so
much, but the tension that melted away as he worked out all sorts of kinks was unreal. For a brief time, he slid his soapy hands up the front of my hips and then my belly. His hands quivered as he ran them up farther to lather my breasts, massaging them as my nipples grew harder between his fingers, but his hands soon moved away.

  “Gods, you’re beautiful.” His voice shook as his hands moved from my back to my sides, traveling down the length of them before taking a firm hold of my hips.

  “Gods, hmm?” My eyes hadn’t opened since he began his masseuse-like duties, the water continuing to pool between my toes.

  “Oh, yes. You’d need more than one to compare to your beauty.”

  For a second I thought he was joking, but he wasn’t.

  “Oh my God, Maddy. Cheesy! Now I know you’re bullshitting—kidding—damn—darn.” I sputtered, spinning around and meeting him with my disbelieving stare as he stood there looking all shunned.

  “But I’m not. Not at all.” He looked even more defeatist as he said it.

  “Okay, look at me. I mean really look at me.” He stood back a tad, arms crossed over his chest as he scanned me with his eyes, clearing his throat.

  “I am.”

  “Right, so…” I did a once-over similar to that in the mirror, showing him all the bits of me that I found disagreeable. “There’s this…” I grabbed the skin of my belly, looser than it was when I was younger and covered with the faint memory of stretch marks that had long since faded to white.

  “And these…” to which I grabbed my DD boobs, which didn’t really bounce back anymore when I let them go. “These used to be a C, Maddy. C! Now they’re just…floppy watermelons.”

  I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but his lips were pursed, and he watched me very carefully. His hands were now firmly planted over his lap.

  “And then my ass. Don’t even get me started.” For that I turned back around, smacking it a few times through a light jiggle before grabbing the round cheeks and bouncing them in his direction.

  “Gods, Leila.” He let out an unusual gasp, his back thudding against the wall as I turned back to face him. “Please, stop.”

  “What, why? If you can be insecure, so can I.”

  “No, no.” He laughed uncomfortably, “It’s just…it’s-”

  “It’s what?” But as I inched closer I could see something poking out from behind his clasped hands, a dark pink head meeting my gaze before my eyes met his. “Oh…”

  “If you were trying to turn me off, you did a poor job of it.” He huffed, his breath heavy. I couldn’t tell if he shivered from the spray of the water that chilled him as it met the air or something else.

  “Oh, Maddy, don’t.” But he grabbed my waist, pulling me into him as our lips met, our breathing heated against one another. His cock dug hard between my legs.

  He pulled me away a moment, giving enough space between us to reveal the sweetly curved hard-on that called to me. “You are beautiful to me, which makes it hard to be more—”

  “Well, it’s definitely hard—”

  “—well mannered.”

  “Maddy…” I parted my thighs enough to slide his cock between them, feeling it slip out behind me as he groaned, my legs hugging the eager member. The slick nectar of my loins slid along the shaft. “I could say the same about you.”

  It was apparent that we wanted to act on these feral desires, though we kissed sweetly; it was almost like the rush of hormones made us more fatigued. As my head fell into his chest, we shuffled back under the water, washing up whatever was left before finishing up with the shower. His gradually dissipating erection bumped against me from time to time, taunting me.

  Wrapped in towels, we made our way to the bedroom where he laid out some clothes I could wear. I settled for a white shirt similar to the one I had dirtied, setting it aside on the bed. I didn’t really see the use in wearing pants to bed, but I really was beginning to miss my bra right about now.

  “I half expected you to wear suspenders like… all the time.” I giggled, lying sideways in the bed as my legs kicked off the side, body still swaddled in a towel. He had picked out some green and blue plaid pajama pants and a dark grey shirt, setting them on the nightstand.

  “Not if I can help it, but…” he paused, like he’d just remembered something. “I um…I wanted to show you—” His eyes fixated on the floor and then on me, his amiable smile laced with unsurety.

  “Show me what?” I propped up on my elbow, watching his fingers grow stiff as they spanned over the stack of clothes. He then disappeared from the room a moment, shuffling through his things on the table before returning with that familiar journal in hand, gripping it firmly.

  “I know you have a lot of questions…and I think this may be the best way to answer them.” He held onto it like it contained a part of his soul, afraid it would escape if he let it fall from his grasp. After he set the book in front of me, he sat on the edge of the bed, watching carefully as I unraveled the weathered cord, but still I hesitated to open it.

  “You’re sure about this, Maddy? If it’s personal I don’t want to—”

  “Yes,” he interrupted, trying to nod confidently and meeting my gaze as he muttered, “I’m sure.”

  With a sigh, I lifted the cover. The musk of a hundred years rose up to enchant my nostrils. The first page was scribbled with some illegible quilled ink marks, and the edges of the pages were darkened and worn from age. Another page turned and a picture slid down the parchment. The page was littered with words, but the picture turned out to be a drawing the closer I looked. A small lock of reddish hair had been adhered to the bottom corner of the page with what looked like sap.

  In the picture was a family, it seemed; a fair-haired woman with a long face and a blank stare, and a pudgy redheaded boy beside her—a big grin rounding his robust cheeks. The red was smeared across the already drawn hair and was faded now, like someone had run over it with a rouge powder later. A pronounced bloody fingerprint also sat at the bottom of the picture.

  My sights then set on the man to the right, broad shouldered and square faced, a head full of tousled dark locks and a set of sweet lips, the start of a shadowy bristle on his jaw. Something about the eyes seemed all too familiar to me. Though colorless, they were lighter than the rest of him, brighter, and after staring hard, I realized I knew those eyes.

  All the while I studied the picture, he remained quiet, sitting there with his side to me, eyeing my hand intently before I gazed up at him and back down at the photo.

  “This is you, isn’t it? Before…”

  He nodded, watching my finger graze across the old pen marks before settling on the boy in the middle. “I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.”

  I could feel a tension rise in the air as my finger lingered.

  “And this? Is this…”

  “Arden, yes.” Quietly he said it, still pained by the thought. I tucked the picture back into the fold before skimming the page.

  “Did you draw this?” I tapped the picture one last time, noting the obvious “Q” that sat initialed beneath it.

  “I did, a long time ago.”

  “It’s very good, Maddy. I didn’t know you could draw.”

  “Yes, well… I had a lot of time to practice.”

  My nail tapped the sloppy initial, tracing the small outline.

  “What does the Q stand for?”

  He took in a deep sigh before scooting farther back, closer to me. “Quinn.”

  “Quinn? Is that like… a pen name?”

  “Oh no,” he laughed, scratching at the back of his neck, almost reflexively. “It’s my birth name. My first name.”

  “You’ve been letting me call you by the wrong name this whole time?”

  “Well, it was Matthews when we met, remember?”

  “How did you k—” I blushed, never remembering having called him by that name, but I was embarrassed either way. “I swear, it’s what Jean said, and I believed her.”

  “It’
s alright.” he chuckled, his face ripe with a laugh.

  “So, Quinn…Maddox, hmm?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s a mouthful. Can I call you Quinny now? My little Quinn-Quinn?”

  “Oh…” his face twisted in distaste, replaced with a humored lip curl. “I’d prefer you didn’t, but—”

  “Oh stop, I’m just messing with you…Quinny.” I narrowed my eyes playfully, continuing my exploration. He smiled back at me.

  The book was filled with history—things that would dispel myths and make even the bravest man lose more than one night’s sleep. Beasts and monsters were everywhere, it seemed; plentiful, and some completely harmless no matter how grotesque. He drew each one so perfectly enough to instill fear, and a plethora of facts accompanied them. Every question I asked, he answered gladly, clearly, filling my head with things I never would have imagined in my wildest dreams. Only the Hag seemed to tug at me the most, his drawn depiction of her so lifelike that it turned my stomach.

  “No more than two in a hundred-mile radius, prefer night over day, travel sporadically, susceptible to Fae fire…” But the last part ensnared me, “Born from the ashes of the Fae?” The words were scribbled in bold, splotchy letters beside the portrait, like they were meant to stand out. “What does that mean?”

  “Mm, that’s where it gets a bit more…complicated. Look…” he licked the tip of his finger, turning one more page to reveal an even more ghastly creature, bigger than the Hag. This one was more akin to a goblin or witch, with a long crooked nose and dark sunken eyes, but she had the same stringy hair and skin pattern. She was just far more menacing.

  “A Black Annis? I remembered reading a bit about those but… what does that have to do with the Hags?”

  “See, that’s where legend falls short.” With that his eyes lit up, a story within him unfurling as it leapt from his chest. His hands and fingers made all sorts of gestures as he spoke.

  “The Annis are a sort of witch, I guess you could say, but one was so old, so ancient, that she actually found a way to corrupt Faerie magic. She would harvest these poor things…” he wet his fingers again, flipping several more pieces of parchment to a fairy-looking creature, human shaped with a rounded forehead but lacking a fifth finger. It had huge, oval-shaped eyes and paper-thin wings, the edges tattered. “Here…” he pointed, “and from their ashes, a Hag is born.”