All's Fair in Vanity's War, Deadly Fairy Tales, Book 2

ALL’S FAIR IN VANITY’S WAR

Deadly Fairy Tales, Book 2

Elizabeth Marx

Contents

ALL’S FAIR IN VANITY’S WAR

Once upon a time witchcraft was safe…

1 ALL’S FAIR IN VANITY’S WAR

2 CLANCY THE CLURICAUNE

3 SERIOUSLY, THEY CALL THEM THE WYRD SISTERS FOR A REASON

4 SECRETS COMING HOME TO ROOST

5 CURFEWS, CAPES & CANTRIPS

6 HOUNDS FROM HELL COME CALLING

7 EXTRAORDINARY MAGIC DOESN’T LEAVE A TRACE

8 EGGS OVER EASY, HOLD THE REVELATIONS

9 EUREKA, SOMEONE CAN SEE ME

10 HEARING & LISTENING ARE TWO DIFFERENT SKILLSETS

11 THE PIECES START JUMBLING TOGETHER 11 THE PIECES START JUMBLING TOGETHER 11 THE PIECES START JUMBLING TOGETHER

12 BANSHEES, LIASHEE, ALL THE OTHER SHES AROUND TOWN

13 TWO WAY MIRROR, HIGHWAY OF HEARTACHE

14 WHO DOESN’T LIKE FIELD TRIPS?

15 ARCHER, ARTIST & ABRACADABRA

16 DATE NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM

17 CRYPTIC CONVERSATIONS

18 PUPPY LOVE

19 DATING & NOT DATING

20 SKEWED AFFECTIONS

21 KNOWING WHAT YOU’RE LOOKING FOR

22 DRUANTIA AND BEL, LIGHT AND DARK

23 GODS AND GODDESSES EXTRAORDINAIRE

24 MIRRORED REFLECTIONS

25 THE HORNLESS SACRED ONE

26 WORDS I’M WAITING FOR

SOMETHING GREEDY THIS WAY COMES

SOMETHING GREEDY THIS WAY COMES

DEADLY FAIRY TALES

NEWSLETTER SIGN UP

1 ALL HALLOWS EVE

About the Author

DESCENT OF BLOOD

ASCENT OF BLOOD

CUTTERS VS. JOCKS

BINDING ARBITRATION

SIGNING BONUS

JUST IN CASE

JUST CLOSE ENOUGH

How You Can Support Indie Authors

ALL’S FAIR IN VANITY’S WAR

License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author by not participating in piracy.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever including Internet usage, without written permission of the author Elizabeth Marx.

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Marx

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2016 Elizabeth Marx

2nd Edition

Edited by: There For You Editing

Created with Vellum

For my Madi with all my love.

Every day I get a glimpse of the young woman you’re becoming and it makes me smile. I watch in wonder as you set your goals, follow your heart, and soar with your dreams.

Once upon a time witchcraft was safe…

1 ALL’S FAIR IN VANITY’S WAR

Druid: Celtic priest and magician.

LOCKE

October 2010 Salem

The catlike way he moved marked the person snooping through my house while he thought I napped as an ExtraOrdinary. Two years ago, I would have thought second and acted first, probably pummeling him. Now I laid perfectly at ease and let him prowl around. It’s one of the best lessons I learned while exiled at Blessingston: sometimes a druid’s best course of action is to lay in wait, gather information, and then strike when your opponent doesn’t have the slightest idea you’re onto him.

The firm strides and muscular build marked him as male. His arrival mysteriously corresponded with my abrupt return home from Ireland, but he was too tall to be the cluricaune Tristan was sure was in Salem to see Keleigh. The intruder bent, his head hovering over my form on the couch, drawing in long pulls of air. Then his nostrils flared as if my Hugo Boss had gone sour. The intruder snapped away suddenly as if he caught another scent and went up the front stairs. I conjured a cloaking spell and crept upstairs behind him. I lurked in the hall while he spent a considerable amount of time in Keleigh’s bedroom, examining her books, desk, and trinkets by the dim streetlight filtering in through the shutters.

Maybe this prowler was after Keleigh and my arrival was a coincidence, but either way whoever he was he was pretty ballsy coming into a high druid’s home uninvited. How the hell had he gotten past the wards surrounding the house in the first place? Tristan’s words of warning came back to me: ‘What’s coming is certainly coming for Keleigh’. There were just too many unknowns; I’d have to protect Keleigh, especially if she wasn’t prepared to protect herself.

Even with my superior vision I couldn’t catch a glimpse of the interloper’s features because his face was hidden in the deep folds of his charcoal-colored hoodie and his hands were encased in black-leather gloves. I slipped down the back stairs ahead of him and he didn’t notice me in the pantry when he soundlessly slipped through the kitchen toward the back door, but the fluttering scent of soot in his wake crinkled the warning hairs at my neckline, and a tiny whiff of sulfur possessed me to follow him outside.

He slithered away, moving down Warren Street, before turning onto Flint. Fall’s barren parkway trees cast only fragmented shadows, so he stole into doorways and saddled up to evergreens, as he moved smoothly from one patch of darkness to the next. No one stalked the sidewalks of Salem with such ease unless they were familiar with them—he was local and one of us, an ExtraOrdinay, but someone I didn’t recognize by his movements or scent alone.

Salem’s walkways were new, with sharp edges; the bricks line up with a precision not allowing for weeds, forming a tight clique like the ones we ExtraOrdinaries had formed. The only mortar needed was bloodline, which never parted for outsiders; I’d learned this lesson the hard way when I’d lost my Ordinary girlfriend to a horrific ‘accident’. These sidewalks buckled over tree roots, but never broke open, their pathways as far-reaching as the sinister history of Salem was deep. The red bricks soldiered along, side-by-side, leading to sacred places like the old burying grounds and all the way to McIntyre Street, regarded as the most beautiful in America.

The trespasser turned east on Chestnut and I lost sight of him more than once. Most of the quiet streets’ welcome mats were rolled up for the evening, but in the middle of the block, he turned onto the walkway of one of the historic homes. The interior was set ablaze with blazing candles, blistering music, and wafting smoke … the cannabis kind of smoke.

I leaned against a giant oak directly across the street from the rambling Queen Anne, watching the partygoers inside through the bay window. Many of the unmasked faces I had been well acquainted with in high school, which drew my thoughts to my life before the misfortune taking the girl I loved from me. Her family’s sprawling mansion, which I hadn’t visited since her death, was only a block over. Through my time at Blessingston I’d come to the realization it hadn’t been fair of me to expose her to my world, she was an Ordinary. I had been warned countless times to let her go, but I’d wanted her and her love so much it had cost her her life.

I sighed, trying to quench the guilt as I examined Ciara Borrail’s house. We were sort of friends, but she’d always wanted more from me and while she was as ExtraOrdinary, rich and popular as I was, she never did a thing for me, she was just too conniving. My wandering thoughts made me lose my visual of the hooded man, but I caught sight of him again as his shoulder brushed the corner of the house when he headed in the direction of the back porch. I pulled my own hood up, jogged across the street, and slipped in the front door; the party was in full swing. Half the guys had on capes with hoods, and the other half had on black hoodie-sweatshirts with various Goth bands and World of Warcraft logos emblazoned across their pectorals.

The Borrails’ annual Halloween bash was something most of the kids in Salem looked forward to. I looked around; some lucky ‘want-to-be-cool’ kids had garnered invitations. Maybe Ciara Borrail planned a human sacrifice of her own?

If I had attended this party two years ago, I might not be damaged goods and my first love might still be among the living. I drifted through the crowd unnoticed, except for an occasional once over from a curious female. Leaning against an antique grandfather clock near the foyer, I tried to catch any movement or mannerism reminding me of the hooded guy I’d been following, when I caught sight of her.

Keleigh leaned on a besom broom alongside a buffet laden with food, her kohl-rimmed eyes smiling as her friend in pigtails and pearls whispered back to her. She had grown taller and her features more defined; her hair poured down her black cape and I thought of the Waterhouse paintings of medieval druidesses hanging in the corridors of Blessingston. Each stroke on the canvas conveyed a heady combination of delicate and desirous, strength emanating from the curve of their spines, the tilt of their heads, and a touch of challenge whispering from parted lips. Many ExtraOrdinaries considered Keleigh an outsider, and each and every report of her I’d heard while at Blessingston said she didn’t give a whit if she was accepted as an ExtraOrdinary, but she was born one of us. The guys checking her out didn’t seem to consider her anything less than smoking hot, and I couldn’t argue their observation. She’d grown more beautiful with time and distance.

Keleigh smiled graciously at the two boys who had worked up the courage to approach her and her friend, but if I could read her brow properly, it held a hint of irritation as the bolder of the two swept his fingers across the wide brim of her pointy hat. The two skater punks froze suddenly, dropped their conversation like a skateboard, and rolled away in their flat-footed, black neon-laced shoes.

What’s up with them? Keleigh’s friend asked.

Weirdos, Madi. She scratched her arms from elbows to wrist. But at least we’re rid of ‘Yo, dawg, what’s up?’

Madi fingered her pearl necklace and toasted Keleigh with her plastic cup. And his sideways-capped sidekick.

A buck-toothed boy approached the pair; he started to cough, making his complexion rougher than a blistered barn. Why someone with a junk-yard-compacted-metal-mouth and glasses as thick as paperweights would approach two of the prettiest girls at the party bewildered me. He turned and I caught a better look at him; he was the boy from the bus I tried to convince had a chance with Keleigh on the fateful day I’d taken my angst too far.

Madi slapped the boy on the back and he stumbled away, choking, as an electrical surge crackled and hummed in a high-pitched frequency through the room. Keleigh bunched up her shoulders as if to filter the sound.

I looked around the ornate dining room, trying to ascertain what created the power surge. Madi’s face scrunched up in confusion and she shivered, before searching the room intently. Madi was years younger than me so I’d never paid attention to her in high school, but I didn’t think she had any ExtraOrdinary talents in spite of her mother running some sort of celebrity psychic network. Keleigh’s green eyes waltzed in place, before seeking a clue as to whether what danced in the atmosphere was friend or foe, Ordinary or ExtraOrdinary, something to fear or something to embrace.

The sweeping sail of a hunter green cloak being theatrically thrown over a shoulder pulled Keleigh’s eyes to Mr. Electricity at the same moment as mine—very short guy, only about four feet tall, dressed in a red plaid suit with bell-bottomed pants from a 1970’s What Not To Wear episode. The outfit was a sharp contrast to the velvety-green aura he was wrapped in. He drew his fingers out of his red-silk brocade vest pocket, indicating Keleigh with a swirl of his fingertips.

Madi spotted him, and she elbowed Keleigh. He’s short, but sweet. She leaned in and whispered, Of course he wants you.

Keleigh’s hand manacled Madi’s wrist. Have you ever seen him before?

Before Madi could respond, he stood in front of them. The top of his corny hat barely crested Keleigh’s shoulder. He was accompanied by a pair of pint-sized twins, each with womanly curves trapped in a child-size body. Their spray-glittered skin and fey facial features spoke wisdom, which only came from true aging. The tissue paper wings on their costumes fluttered in time with their excited breathing. The trio was out of this world, drawing speculative glances and elbow-to-rib knocks from everyone in the vicinity.

The midget took off his red top hat and bowed toward Keleigh. Me lady, I’m Clancy. The two fairies twittered, their voices a perfect two-part harmony. The symphony made several burly jocks turn in their direction, before the jocks’ testosterone fueled chortling escalated into backslapping encouragement. The petite fairies were dressed in naughty nighties, and males notice lingerie. Little did the jocks know how much power these fairies wielded; either one of the petite blondes had the strength of a full defensive line in the palm of one of their hands, and neither of them would be afraid to ram a football down any jock’s throat.

Clancy, just the cluricaune Tristan sent me to find. This was the perfect opportunity to find what he was up to without him being any wiser.

Didn’t you get the invitation? Madi examined Clancy and the two members of his harem. This is a witch’s party, not a St. Patrick’s Day parade.

I suppose it was one of those text messages. Clancy pulled his cell phone out of his top hat, before repositioning the hat over his thick, claret-colored tresses. This is a phone. I don’t understand why you don’t just call each other.

The second Clancy’s hand came into contact with the phone it started making a fizzling noise, giving off the sound bad static in an electrical storm. Madi eyed his phone suspiciously before she started to reply, but Clancy’s clover-colored eyes twinkled and her face froze mid-retort. Why don’t you take my consorts into the other room and introduce them to some of the adolescent males?

Con-what? Madi’s mouth managed to get out before it snapped shut, her chin struggling to get it open again. Without further argument, Madi stepped away, the fairies trailing a swirling path of sparkling dust, luring five meatheads behind them to the adjacent living room filled past capacity with dancing bodies. Clancy scanned the dining room, meeting gazes, before he nodded his head toward the door leading to the living room. Everyone started marching in orderly fashion out of the room like ants after melting popsicles at a kids’ picnic. I was tucked alongside the grandfather clock out of Clancy’s line of sight and without eye contact he couldn’t get me to do shit, much less vacate the dining room. Keleigh was too concerned with Clancy’s ability to command the room to notice me.

Keleigh’s fingernails scored her forearms again before she dug them into her broom handle. Why are you dressed like a leprechaun?

I’m not, I’m a cluricaune.

Nice costume, but you’re missing a beard, green suit, pot of gold, and like Madi said it’s the wrong holiday.

Yes, but my conversation is magically delicious, he said in rhythm with the stereo system’s bass. I understand your confusion. I’m often mistaken for a leprechaun.

Keleigh’s eyes tried to locate Madi, but the gyrating bodies had enveloped her. What did you do to Madi? She never does anything without an argument.

She’s fine. The lass just stepped on a stray sod.

Stray sod?

You know, an OtherWorldly clump of grass causing temporary disorientation.

OtherWorldly? Keleigh asked without breaking eye contact.

Let’s not play games with one another, I know what you are and you know I’m not Ordinary.

Keleigh examined Clancy closer. Are you a friend of Humphrey’s?

Is Humphrey a cluricaune?

Keleigh’s eyebrows drew together. He’s a handyman who does odd jobs around our house. His name is Humphrey Bogart.

I heard you had a broony. Clancy straightened his pointed satin-collar indignantly. But your Humphrey is a common house elf.

How would I know, Keleigh shrugged, "you’re both about the same height. How many little people can there be in Salem?"

I can’t say which is more insulting: a little person, a leprechaun, or a boggart. Clancy’s eyes burned red. That’s about as stereotypical as your costume. Which, I might add, no high-druidess would be caught dead wearing. Black’s all wrong for your coloring. Haven’t you been taught anything about your station? Your mother would be appalled to find you in such a state.

My mother? Keleigh’s eyes widened. What does my mother have to do with this?

Oh, I forgot, bound to happen, when in your presence. Forgive me, me lady, Clancy gave her another courtly bow as if he was in the company of the Queen of England.

Okay, did Lynx put you up to this? Keleigh asked. I’ve told him before I don’t know anything about ExtraOrdinary events in Salem.

I don’t know anyone named Lynx, Clancy replied, but scratched his head. Of course you know about ExtraOrdinary events, you’re a vate.

Shush, Keleigh said, glancing around to see if anyone had heard him. Is this some kind of pre-Halloween prank because Lynx doesn’t care for Humphrey?

Who the hell is Lynx? I went through my mental checklist of ExtraOrdinary persons in Salem and I’d never heard of a Lynx. For whatever reason, Keleigh did not want to believe Clancy was here on some ExtraOrdianary missive. And who the hell was this Lynx guy she was so concerned about and why the hell had he been grilling her about ExtraOrdinary business?

Clancy scratched his chin with fingertips probably considering the same questions as me. Maybe it’s what your mother warned me about.

I don’t think this is funny, Keleigh countered, her eyes getting watery. You can tell Lynx I said so.

I’ve traveled a great distance to deliver a message from your mother.

Keleigh took a step away and glanced around as if worried about her safety in the now-empty room. How did you know her?

Every OtherWorldly being knows your mother, as she was to be our lady, but she was turned away from her destiny.

Keleigh’s bottom lip trembled, and she bit into it.

You look very much like her. Even with the cloaking spell, you’re as beautiful as she was. The spell won’t hold up much longer; I hope you’re prepared for the repercussions. Otherwise, every mythical creature who can cross—

Keleigh interrupted, You saw my mother when?

A few days ago … in this, Clancy said, extending a hand mirror he literally pulled out of his hat.

The bronze mirror was etched with an interlaced swirling La Tene-style salmon, the fish of wisdom. Its eyes were set with millefiori glass. I had seen it on display in the reliquary gallery at Blessingston and I was right, it had gone missing and Tristan was right about who had stolen it.

Of course, days in my world could be months in yours. Clancy shrugged and scratched the hair under his hat.

She’s alive? Keleigh mumbled as she brushed the silver face of the mirror with her fingertips. This was my mother’s mirror. Where did you get it?

It showed up on top of my pot of gold. So I did the whole ‘Mirror, mirror, on the wall’ thing, and your mother appeared.

I was certain he was lying—it didn’t just appear to Clancy, he’d taken it—but why and who’d asked him to steal it was a whole other line of questioning. I considered intervening but with the way things had been between Keleigh and I when I’d left, she wouldn’t trust me.

Keleigh held the mirror up to the light, admiring the etched symbols and filigree, but the only thing coming back to her was her own stunned expression and a streak of silver-light surrounding her reflection. She pulled the mirror down suddenly. My mother was in this mirror? She was alive? Keleigh turned the mirror on Clancy and she eyed his reflection suspiciously, and then frowned at whatever she saw. Keleigh seemed to know what I knew; Clancy was lying or not being completely honest.

Clancy pushed the mirror away. Hard to tell whether she was in this realm or the OtherWorld. It was a brief conversation in which she instructed me to do three things.

Perplexed, Keleigh looked away from Clancy’s reflection. I don’t believe any of this, but I would like to know how you got your hands on my mother’s mirror.

Vates never give their scrying mirrors away. They pass them down to their daughters or granddaughters, just as they pass along their powers of prophecy. Clancy extended what appeared to be a marker hung from some old twine toward Keleigh. The marker had a large hole drilled in the bottom. I was instructed to give you the mirror and this.

My mother sent me a mirror and a magic marker?

It’s not a marker. Clancy pulled off the cap, exposing a metal-spiraled end, before he stuck the cap through the hole at the other end, making a T-shape. But it’s magical.

My mother sent me a mirror and a corkscrew? Keleigh asked.

Darby said, ‘Wear this tool on your chain and never remove it from your links.’ Or was it in front of links? He scratched his head again. I might have confused her wording.

Did you get a weekend pass from the loony bin? A magic mirror, a visit from a cluricaune, a message from the OtherWorld, and still Keleigh didn’t believe. She was in deep denial about who and what she was.

Your mother said you should visit the Wyrd Sisters, and they will teach you the oral tradition. The final thing she said to me, ‘You are released from your promise never to practice the craft.’

Keleigh’s gaze went from cautious to indignant. My mother would never release me from my oath.

Clancy removed a piece of paper from his hatband. She said you would not believe me, so she sent you this note.

Keleigh grabbed the crumpled paper. From this distance I could hardly make out a scrawled old-world script, so I said a few words, a tiny spell so I’d be able to read the note."You are released from the promise you made me. All of my love and power now shifts to you. Learn to harness it thoroughly, and use it wisely. It’s her handwriting." Keleigh looked up, shocked.

Yes, she said you would recognize it from all the notes she wrote to your Ordinary teachers explaining your ExtraOrdinary behaviors. Clancy shrugged. "I suppose your powers were unusual to an Ordinary."

This note isn’t dated.

I told you about the time difference between your world and mine; a date would be irrelevant.

The stationery is familiar. Keleigh examined Clancy closer. Are you normally an OtherWorldly delivery boy?

I’m a loan officer, Clancy said indignantly.

Keleigh laughed. Money lender or launderer?

Clancy straightened his tie and huffed, What makes sense in the Ordinary world rarely makes sense in ours. You’re ExtraOrdinary and I’m OtherWorldly.

I am Ordinary, one-hundred-percent Ordinary.

No, your mother comes from one of the most ancient and steadfast lines. Your vate blood runs as thick as mead in your veins, and your father’s family had some gifts which would have been adequate, if used appropriately. He examined the cuffs of his flaming blazer. "I haven’t