Ever After

Book 4: Transplanted Tales Novel

by Kate SeRine

Genres: Action & Adventure Romance; Fantasy Romance; Paranormal Romance

Synopsis

"Kate SeRine knows how to pack a punch!" --Donna Grant, New York Times bestselling author To Catch a Thief. . . For centuries, Gideon Montrose has served the King of Fairies without question and, often, without mercy. So when the King orders him to apprehend a notorious thief, Gideon obeys. But when he finally gets his hands on the beautiful culprit, Gideon's in for a shock. Arabella Locksley is none other than the spirited, unpredictable woman he knew back in Make Believe as Robin Hood--the love of his life whose tragic death destroyed his chance at Happily Ever After. Now, he has an impossible choice. Betray the woman he once loved, or the king he's bound to serve? "Totally new and entertaining." --Kate Douglas " Ever After, is choc full of the edge of your seat action, minute to minute plot twists, and complex characters that has made the Transplanted Tales a staple on so many shelves. . .Merging both old and new characters, bold and sexy plot lines, elements of mystery, magic, and mayhem, and a level of romance that has to be swooned over to be believed, Gideon's story is definitely one sure to keep pages turning and hearts burning for many a moon." -- WTF Are You Reading? "I have never read anything like this series. . .Fresh and entertaining, these books never cease to both surprise and amaze me." -- Yummy Men and Kick Ass Chicks " Ever After is a beautifully spun tale. . ." --The Reading Cave "What a great book! Kate SeRine is a new favorite of mine!" --Tea and Book "Each time I open up a new Transplanted Tale from Kate SeRine I know I am in for a treat and Ever After was delightful and suspenseful." --Caffeinated Book Reviewer "The action and mystery involved in the story kept me entertained and turning the pages as fast as my eyes could read." --Little Read Riding Hood "Well-plotted and cast with strong and dynamic characters, Ever After is a paranormal romance filled with suspense, betrayal, dangerous antagonists, and a heavy dollop of humor and romance." --Smexy Books 98,000 Words

Release date: August 1, 2014

Publisher: eOriginals

Print pages: 286

Sample

“Who the hell are you working for, Georgie?”

The guy’s feet dangled at least a foot above the ground, kicking and twisting to get out of my hold. His eyes were wide with fear, and he clawed the hell out of my hands, which were on either side of his head, threatening to squeeze until his skull popped like an overripe melon.

“I dunno!” he squeaked. “Nobody ever told me. I just move the shit!”

I squeezed a little harder, just enough to make a point. “Sure about that?”

The Tale whimpered a little, and then I’ll be damned if the little fucker didn’t piss himself.

Disgusted by his cowardice, I held him away from me like a diseased rat. “My patience grows thin.”

“I swear to God, man!” he sobbed. “That’s the truth!”

I released him, letting him fall into his puddle of piss. “The king will discover who’s stealing his transports,” I assured him. “And when he does, his vengeance will be visited upon the perpetrators, horrors beyond what they could possibly imagine. No Tale involved will be immune from his wrath—or mine.”

I swear I could hear the bastard’s gulp as he stared up at me with wide-eyed terror.

“I would suggest you find another line of work,” I advised. “You don’t want to be associated with the thief when he’s caught.”

The guy nodded, crab-walking backward until he’d scooted far enough away to be out of my reach. Then he scrambled to his feet and bolted. If we’d been in Make Believe, he probably would’ve left little tread marks of burning fire from his hasty retreat.

“Go ahead and run, Georgie Porgie,” I muttered. “It’s the only thing you’re good at, you little shit.”

I sighed and lifted my face to the sky, checking the progress of the moon to gauge the hour. The night was half over, and I was no closer to getting any answers than I’d been several hours earlier.

Another shipment of the king’s fairy dust had gone missing—an occurrence that was becoming far too common. The highly addictive substance was carefully controlled by Tale law in the Here and Now, and the Seelie family were the only ones authorized to manufacture and distribute.

Of course, that didn’t mean they were the only ones doing it—a Tale crime lord named Tim “The Sandman” Halloran had made a hefty profit on the illegal trade of fairy dust, or Vitamin D as it was called on the street. Well, he’d made a hefty profit until he struck a deal with the wrong people, choosing to trust the human Agency instead of his own kind for the sake of the almighty dollar. That mistake had cost him his life.

The Agency was a secret branch of the Ordinaries’ government charged with controlling any of the paranormal beings that had inhabited the Here and Now long before we came over. In the Ordinaries’ urban legends they were often called the Men in Black, but they were far more ruthless and conniving than the Ordinaries ever imagined. They had a hard-on for studying the Tales and figuring out how we’d come to this world and what made us tick. And, as we’d discovered all too well three years before, they were determined to use us to further their own agendas.

Fortunately, we Tales had at least put a stop to the Agency’s interference with the fairy dust trade three years ago, and we’d been working hard as hell to maintain the tentative peace between them and the Fairy Tale Management Authority ever since. But, considering that long-standing history of animosity and distrust, when the dust started going missing again in recent months, my king was quick to blame the Ordinaries.

And I couldn’t say I disagreed.

I didn’t trust them. I didn’t trust this peace. I knew what it was like to hammer out a truce only to have it violated with more brutal and horrific consequences than what had preceded the treaty in the first place. I had lost everyone I cared about to such a violation. I refused to lose my new family—forced upon me though it was this time—to such maneuvering.

I was on the verge of setting off for another targeted area of downtown Chicago when I felt a familiar tingling sensation around my wrists where I still bore the king’s brand. I lifted my arm and peered at the marks, the intricate design blazing with the distinctive blue of the king’s magic. Whatever he needed, it was urgent.

I took a deep breath and slipped into the temporal rift, arriving in the king’s study seconds later. He sat behind his desk, his fingers steepled over his stomach, his brows drawn together in a troubled frown.

“Sire,” I greeted with a slight bow.

He glanced up at me with a startled expression as if he’d forgotten he’d summoned me. “Ah, Gideon. Prompt as always.” He gestured vaguely toward the ornately carved chair across from him. “Please, have a seat.”

I eyed him askance, curious at his behavior. In the hundreds of years I’d served the king, I’d grown accustomed to his every mannerism, could read his mood without even utilizing my ability. And, yet, this was new. He seemed ... confused.

Cautiously, I accepted his offer and sat down but didn’t relax for an instant. “My king,” I began guardedly, “you summoned me?”

The smile he gave me was wooden, forced, completely lacking in the warmth and humor I’d come to know. “Indeed.”

I made a quick assessment, sifting through a jumble of his emotions to find the root of the matter. “You have received troubling news,” I surmised, “and would like me to investigate its validity.”

He nodded, clearly distracted by his own thoughts. Finally, he heaved a sigh and rose, coming around to sit on the corner of the desk. “Gideon, you are like the son I never had.”

“You have a son, sire,” I reminded him. When his brows lifted as if I’d provided new information, I added, “Puck? He’s mayor of The Refuge. We visited in the spring for the birth of a son delivered of his wife Aurelia.”

He sighed. “Oh, yes, yes. Puck, of course. But you are the son I’d wished for, m’boy. Loyal, true, noble. And, if I’m not mistaken, we’ve become friends—family—over these many long years, have we not?”

“You are not mistaken.”

The king grinned. “I wager that even if I removed the spell binding you to this family, you would continue to serve us.”

I raised my wrists. “A hypothesis I am keen to test whenever you are, sire.”

He chuckled and rose from his perch, returning to his seat behind the desk. “Perhaps another time.”

The man was a walking contradiction. Ruthless, powerful, vengeful, he was one of the few Tales worthy of his reputation. But he was pleasant, warm, charming, to those he deemed worthy of his affection. And one would be hard-pressed to find a more generous and loving father to his numerous offspring.

He had always treated me with kindness and respect in spite of my inferior status in his household, insisting that all who served him as his subjects do the same. And when I stood trial for my clandestine relationship with his daughter Lavender some three hundred years after coming into his home, an offense punishable by death among our kind, he came to my defense, refusing to allow my execution. None on the Council dared to question his decision. And nigh on two hundred years later, the members of the Council still dropped their gazes when I came into a room.

Now, after five hundred years together, we’d come to an understanding. I’d become his friend and only confidant. And it’d been at least a century or more since I’d last contemplated slitting his throat while he slept to free myself from his spell.

“Sire,” I prompted after a period of prolonged silence on his part, “would you prefer I return at another time? You are clearly preoccupied.”

He tilted his head at a contemplative angle. “Preoccupied? Yes, yes. That I am. I have received most troubling news, Gideon—a lead on our thief that I had not anticipated.”

My brows shot up. “Indeed?”

“Are you familiar with a Tale named Locksley?” he asked, his tone cautious as he watched me closely.

“No,” I replied, curious at his strange behavior. “I can’t say that I know the person.”

He seemed visibly relieved by this. “I received a report from Al Addin at the Fairytale Management Authority today, providing me a list of all known thieves who’d come over and when. It seems Locksley’s arrival in the Here and Now corresponds rather well with the theft of our transports.”

“You are abandoning the notion that the Ordinaries are behind the thefts, then?” I asked.

“Not at all. It’s entirely possible that the Agency and this person are in league. I want you to bring me this thief. I want answers.”

I gave him a curt nod and made to stand, but he held up a hand, staying me. “My king?”

“This thief . . .” he began, searching for words that seemed to elude him. “Well, I think it best if this operation be conducted quickly and quietly. Since arriving in the Here and Now, Locksley has caused quite a lot of trouble, making waves with the Ordinaries that we’d all prefer not to ripple out any further. And from what I understand, Locksley’s quite a slippery one, evading all attempts at capture. Al has his own agenda for bringing this one in for questioning, as you can imagine, and has asked that we cooperate with his investigation. But you will bring this mischief maker to me, Gideon.”

“As you wish, sire.”

This time when I stood to go, he didn’t stop me. Nevertheless, I paused, studying him in his preoccupation. It was rare that I saw him this pensive. The king was a man who acted decisively, his disposition suited for action more than quiet contemplation. The only other times I’d seen him in such a state was when one of his children had caused him concern—or he’d learned that his escapades had resulted in yet another wee bairn.

The man outwardly doted on his wife, seemed to love her with such blind devotion it was beyond my understanding—especially considering her disagreeable temper and determination to be unpleasant to everyone in her presence. But Queen Mab had not shared her husband’s bed for as long as I had been in his house and she encouraged him to seek his pleasure elsewhere. Which he did with a great deal of success—and a shocking amount of potency.

“Sire?” I began, feeling out his willingness to confide. “Is there another child whose mother needs to be provided for? If so, I can visit her immediately and determine her intentions for the child’s upbringing and education.”

The king’s solemn gaze met and held mine before he finally shook his head. “No, no. Nothing of that sort at the moment, my friend. Just concentrate on finding this Locksley as soon as possible. According to Al’s report, the last sighting was at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. Several medieval relics on loan from the British Museum were stolen. There was no fault in the Ordinaries’ security system or in their staff. The thief seemed to slip in and out without a trace. The only way it even came to our attention was because a Tale on staff there happened to pick up on a magical signature that was left behind.”

I let my senses take him in, immediately picking up on his ire and irritation regarding this evasive thief. There were only a few thieves I’d ever come across—Tale or otherwise—who could slip in and out of a place completely undetected, regardless of the amount of security. And I was one of them. Another was the woman I’d watched fall to her death so many centuries before. The irony of the thief’s name didn’t escape me, and I doubt it did the king either.

Locksley.

In the Here and Now, the tales told of Robin Hood often ascribed the name Locksley to the lovable rogue of legend. I smothered a wistful smile. How surprised the Ordinaries would’ve been to discover that the Robin Hood stories they’d learned at their mother’s knee were completely and utterly wrong. No one knew that better than I.

But this thief wasn’t the same person. Couldn’t be. No matter how much I wanted to believe she could still be alive, I had made my peace with her death centuries ago, had finally accepted that she was lost to me forever.

Still, every now and again, that hope resurged—a woman in a crowd whose nose had that same pert upturn at the end. A laugh that had the same joyful abandon. A whisper on the wind that could’ve been her sigh. But there was no mistaking this thief for the one who’d stolen my heart so long ago. For one crucial fact about the evidence crushed those hopes.

“This thief has magic,” I mused aloud. When I saw the king’s inquisitive expression, I offered him a grin to cover the direction of my thoughts and added, “That will make the hunt even more entertaining.”

The king chuckled. “Sometimes I think you enjoy this a little too much, Gideon. I believe you miss the days when you were little more than a thief yourself.”

He had no idea.

“Perhaps you are correct, sire.”

Without thinking, I reached up to place a hand over the silver pendant I wore around my neck and kept hidden beneath my shirt. A series of interconnected, never-ending knots, it was a symbol of my love and devotion that I’d never had the chance to share with the woman whose impudent smile and ready laugh still haunted me all these centuries later.

I made my bow to the king and felt that familiar constriction in the center of my chest that assailed me every time I thought of my lost love. If this Locksley person was even half the thief my darling lass had been, then I certainly had my work cut out for me.

I slipped from the king’s study and wandered the halls of the mansion, checking to make sure all was well. There was no reason for concern, I knew. The king’s magic was among the most powerful I’d ever seen. Only his daughter Lavender’s was more extraordinary. The protection spells around the house were unrivaled.

Yet I still checked every night, making sure those in my charge slept safely. There was only once that I’d failed to detect an intruder—but that had been an attack upon the king’s psyche using a glamour to persuade him he was awake and interacting with everyone around him when, in truth, he slept, hovering near death. But that vulnerability had been addressed since then and fortified to ward off illusions more powerful than what even the great Merlin could’ve conjured.

I grunted at the thought of the famous wizard, unable to keep from grinning. It’d been far too long since I’d visited my old friend. But it appeared that would soon be remedied. I could think of no better person to advise me on the treasures that might tempt a thief who was partial to museum antiquities than a man who had studied all of them in his never-ending search for knowledge.

“You there.”

I halted immediately, the sound of Queen Mab’s voice jarring me from my stroll down memory lane. Never one to enjoy the queen’s company, I set my jaw, squared my shoulders, and turned to face her, counting myself lucky that I was the empath.

She stood there before me, haughty and dignified, her lids partially closed over golden eyes, not bothering to mask her disdain for a lowly servant. But she had more reasons than the crime of my birth to dislike me.

I had been under the king’s command for only a few months when the queen had invited me to her bed. And I’d declined. Suffice it to say, my lady did not receive my polite refusal well. But her response then paled in comparison to her reaction when we came over to the Here and Now and my secret affair with her daughter was revealed. None had called for my execution more vociferously than Mab. And all these long years later, she still looked at me like she’d love to see my head at her feet.

Never one to do things by halves, Mab was dressed in a pale green evening gown in spite of the late hour, her thick blonde hair piled upon her head in intricate twists, threaded with pearls and jewels. She was a vision of loveliness, one of the most striking women I’d ever seen. It wasn’t difficult to see why the king had been so taken with her. What puzzled me was his continued infatuation.

She’d apparently been out all evening, with whom was not for me to know or judge—although I’d noticed such engagements had become more and more frequent. But one thing I’d learned very early on was not to interfere in the affairs of the household. What the royal family did behind closed doors was not my business. I’d attempted to interfere once in the early days of my servitude and warn the king of Mab’s conniving before I’d fully understood the peculiar nature of their relationship, and had paid dearly for it. And would continue to do so if the look on Mab’s face was any indication.

“My queen,” I greeted, keeping my tone even and offering a respectful bow even though respect was the furthest thing from my mind. “How may I serve you?”

“You may inform my husband that I will be expecting him at breakfast in the morning,” she said, her tone clipped. “He has failed to join me every day for the past week and I tire of his absence. It’s most inconvenient. All I have for company are two of his bastard daughters who are visiting. Again. Truly, my nerves are taxed beyond measure.”

I was acquainted with Mab’s nerves of old and knew well the consequences of their being “taxed.” I had my suspicions that the person who’d coined the phrase “drama queen” must’ve had my lady in mind. From what I could determine, the only reason she wanted the king around was to have someone to fawn over her and provide the attention she constantly craved, but I inclined my head, forcing a compliant smile. “I will relay your message at once. Shall I ask the king’s daughters to dine elsewhere? I am certain Lily and Ivy will be happy to oblige.”

Having heard the women grumbling about their stepmother in the garden just the day before, vociferously lamenting their poor luck in being stuck with her every meal without the benefit of their father’s humor and affection, I had a feeling they would welcome the directive.

But Mab sniffed dismissively. “Just relay the message to my husband.”

With that, she swept the length of her dress behind her, sending up a cloud of golden fairy dust. Mab’s dust was among the most potent available—and the most addictive, even to other fairies. Most of the time, fairy dust just gave other fairies a mild high or offered a calming effect. I sometimes wondered if it was Mab’s dust and not her charming personality that had snared the king and held him captive in so many ways.

I held my arm up to my nose, making sure not to inhale any of the dust she’d shed, and turned to relay the message I’d been given, but drew up short when I caught sight of one of the objects of our discussion, tiptoeing down the hall, carrying her shoes so as not to give away her late return.

“Good evening, Ivy.”

She started and spun around with a giggle, then held her finger to her lips. She jogged over to me, a little uncertain on her feet, and swayed when she giggled again. “Don’t tell Daddy I got home so late,” she said in a loud whisper. “He’d be so pissed!”

That he would, especially if he saw her completely shit-faced and glowing from whatever sexcapades she’d been involved in that evening. But who was I to judge? “As you wish.”

“And for God’s sake, don’t tell Lily!” She rolled her eyes. “I’d have to listen to yet another lecture about responsibility and self-respect and whatever wild hair she’d gotten up her ass lately.” She flapped her fingers like a puppet mouth, “Blah, blah, blah. She totally needs to get laid.” She tilted her head to one side, sizing me up and down none too subtly. “Think you’re up for the job, Gid?”

My brows shot up. It wasn’t the first time I’d been propositioned by one of the king’s offspring, and it’d been centuries since I’d taken one up on it. What was a new experience was one of them asking on behalf of another sister. “A tempting offer,” I replied politely. “Lily certainly is a beautiful woman and enchanting in her own way, even if you disapprove of her rather studious nature.”

“Studious?” Ivy said with a laugh. “She spends all her time holed up in her room hunched over books of magic. That’s not studious, Gid, that’s boring. She needs to get some nookie and get a life.”

I inclined my head. “Well, perhaps it’s better left to your sister to decide with whom she should spend her time. I doubt she would find my company engaging.”

Ivy shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She wiggled her fingers at me. “Ta-ta, Gid. Remember—not a word to Daddy!”

I sighed, shaking my head. God help me if I should ever have any daughters. I’d end up locking them in their rooms until they were at least two hundred and twenty.

As soon as Ivy had disappeared down the hallway, I turned my attention to the shadows. “Perhaps you should retire as well, sir.”

The man who’d been attempting to cloak himself in darkness stepped forward, his self-satisfied swagger pissing me off more than I cared to admit. He ran a hand over his perfectly coifed dark hair. “Good evening, Gideon,” he drawled. “You’re up late.”

I lifted an eyebrow, keeping my voice even as I said, “As are you, Reginald.”

He chuckled. “Yes, well, what can I say? There’s too much pleasure to be had in the darkness.”

“She’s the king’s daughter,” I reminded him, an edge of warning in my voice.

“Ivy, you mean?” he asked as if he didn’t know who I meant. He chuckled. “Yes, well, you’d know a thing or two about the allure of the king’s daughters, wouldn’t you?”

I was tempted to knock the condescending smirk off his face, but I merely offered him a tight smile. “I understand there’s a meeting tomorrow to discuss the security issues plaguing the king’s fairy dust transports,” I said, pointedly changing the subject. “I hope you take my recommendations seriously.”

Reginald gave a curt nod, his eyes betraying the lie even before he said, “But of course. Your suggestions will be valued as always, Gideon. But, as I’m the queen’s attaché, you realize I must obey her wishes above all others. And, well ... how do I put this? Her Majesty doesn’t care to take advice from her husband’s Unseelie slave.”

I gave him my fuck you smile—the one that left the recipient wondering just what was behind it. “Of course.”

Based on the look on Reginald’s face, it had the desired effect. His swagger wavered a bit as he said, “Well, I’m sure you have somewhere to be, boots to polish, asses to kiss. . . .”

I inclined my head politely, not showing the least irritation at his barbed comment. “As do you. Good night, Reginald.”

After finishing my security check, I delivered Mab’s message to the king by slipping a note under his bedroom door, not wanting to interrupt the very audible visit from his latest conquest, then left the mansion and went to my own quarters in the carriage house nearby. But instead of slipping through a rift, I strolled across the lawn, breathing in the crisp autumn air, letting it fill my lungs as my thoughts drifted back to the thief I’d been ordered to find, wondering what the next target could be.

The moonlit night was still, no wind to rustle the leaves or whistle through the rapidly thinning branches of the arbors that surrounded the grounds. Which was why the sudden rustling snapped me out of my reverie in an instant.

I scanned the darkness for a sign of the intruder, my eyes narrowed as I watched for even the slightest movement. After a few moments’ pause, I continued toward the house, feigning nonchalance but all the while keeping watch.

Just as I reached the door, leaves crackled behind me. My senses snapped to attention, the hair at my neck prickling in warning. Although I couldn’t see anyone there in the darkness, I sensed a presence lurking just beyond my sight.

“Who’s there?” I demanded, my voice calm. “Reveal yourself and I won’t harm you.”

I waited, but no response came.

Then, sudden movement, a scattering of underbrush as something bolted like a frightened deer.

I shifted in the direction of the sound, anticipating the direction it would take, and came out just at the tree line. A shadow darted out from behind a particularly large oak tree, racing for the cover of the woods where the moonlight did not penetrate. I hurried after, determined to find out who had made it past the protection spell around the perimeter of the property.

I crashed through the undergrowth, periodically shifting in short bursts to try to intercept the intruder, but each time he seemed to anticipate my moves, darting just out of the way in time to avoid my grasp. As we raced through the woods, I couldn’t help grinning, memories of many woodland chases filling my head.

How many times had I been the one pursued? How often had Robin and I made the same sort of desperate dash, panting through our laughter when we’d managed once again to avoid capture?

I chuckled, picturing the twinkle of mischief in her eyes, the elation in her smile as she’d throw herself into my arms, eager for my kiss. With my thoughts so pleasantly distracted, I didn’t see the figure swinging down from the tree branch until his feet slammed into my chest, knocking me flat on my back. For a moment, I lay there, stunned more by my lack of foreknowledge than by the blow itself. “What the hell?” I muttered, frowning as my assailant did a backflip off the branch and landed with surprising grace.

The figure was slight of frame, smaller than I’d expected. He paused briefly, casting a glance at me from beneath his hood, then pivoted and bolted again. I scrambled to my feet but there was no sign of him. I conjured a quick sprinkle of fairy dust and blew it from my palm, instantly finding the footprints I sought, but they went only a few yards before vanishing abruptly.

I scanned the branches of the trees above me, scouring the darkness for my acrobatic foe, but whoever he was, he was gone now.

I made one last search of the area, the. . .