Once Upon A Curse: 17 Dark Faerie Tales Read online

  What frightened Tam the most wasn't death so much as what he kept seeing as the instrument of his demise. He thought when he came to again he'd see them as people. Just regular people out beating up on college kids. But when they all removed their hoods, they all looked like trolls.

  They varied, from the size of their tusks to the size of their horns. Some horns curled back to meet their pointed ears, while others stuck straight up before they sloped backward. Their features were different. He'd had long enough to look into their faces and memorize them. Their skin tones were different shades of gray. Just…slate gray.

  I'm hallucinating. I'm dying. And my mind wants me to think I was killed by mythical creatures from fantasies so I won't be so upset to die at twenty-two. That's it. That's gotta be it. Because if this is real…

  The big one, called Magnus, moved from the table and strolled over to Tam. He made sure Tam could see his face. "I'll admit. You've held up longer than the others. But we know it's you, Tam Lin. You can see us for what we are, and only the Unseelie can do that."

  Tam hadn't been able to talk the entire time, not with the torque around his neck. He simply stared, mute, and waited for the blows to start. He tensed when Magnus reached out to him, but he didn't strike.

  The troll took off the torque, and as he pulled it away, Tam could see what it looked like. He'd seen them before, in museums and at the local Renaissance Faire now and then. A semicircle of metal, carved like the heads of two dragons with the same tail, facing each other.

  That simple half-circle of iron is what kept me helpless?

  Not that removing it did him any favors. The volume of pain increased by a thousand, and he moaned before he could stop himself. It was odd to hear his voice again.

  "The torque dulls the pain as well as your wits. It's what keeps the Unseelie in line. You have one more chance to tell me where it is, Tam Lin."

  Tam took in several deep breaths and used that opportunity to look around. He took in more of his surroundings. He was pretty sure they were in a basement, he just didn't know where. And he didn't know if the stairs on his right led up to a house or perhaps a business. And if he were at all successful at getting out, where would he go? He was pretty sure the ankle had swollen and was unusable.

  "My name…" he said, as he winced again because the damage to his chest interfered with breathing, "is Tamberline Kirkpatrick, not Tam Lin."

  Magnus struck his face. It was a good, hard knock against his temple. Tam saw stars as his body swayed back and forth from the impact. "The pain won't stop until you tell us how to shift it."

  Tam tasted blood and spit it out. A tooth was loose. "Wh-what are you looking for? I don't know what it is." He expected another blow.

  And he got it. This time, he blacked out for a few seconds before the shock of cold water woke him. He reacted to it, and then screamed out as his body answered in pain.

  "If the Morrigan takes you, your life will be much harder. We can give you peace. Kill you and burn the body. You'll never have to be her bonded."

  Tam had no idea what that meant. He'd heard them talk about this Morrigan, and he knew the name from folklore, but that's what she was…a myth. But then again, I'm talking to trolls, right?

  A tune went off somewhere in the room. Tam assumed it was a phone. He had to laugh internally at the idea of trolls carrying cell phones. The smaller one stepped away as he pulled a phone from his pocket. "We have company. Upstairs."

  "Ignore them," Magnus said.

  Tolen answered, "Better to turn them away than to feed their insistence."

  Magnus gave him a harsh growl. "Then go turn them away. And take Poot with you."

  The smaller one stomped his foot. "No…I want to see it shift."

  "Go." Magnus pointed to the stairs.

  Tam watched as the two went up the steps. The wood creaked under their weight.

  Magnus placed the torque back around Tam's neck. "Best to keep you quiet, just in case."

  And once again, he was mute and unable to move.

  They all waited for a signal. Two stomps on the floor. Magnus smiled. "All clear. Now we can start again, and you can tell me where it is—"

  The basement door opened, and Tam expected to hear Tolen and Poot come down the stairs. So did Magnus and the other two. What Tam didn't expect to hear was a swump sound and another thud. He could only focus on Magnus as the troll roared at something to Tam's right. He brandished his pipe and ran out of frame.

  Tam heard the sounds of battle. Heard the cries of pain. And more of that odd swump noise.

  Then nothing.

  Until…

  He recognized her face. He'd watched her in step dancing class, all while dreaming of asking her out, but also feeling embarrassed because she was a good few inches taller than him. It was Áine (pronounced Awn-ya) McCuill, the lead dancer in the troupe, only instead of being dressed in jeans; she wore what looked like leather pants, boots, and a tight-fitting vest. She had her red hair pulled back, and sticking up over her shoulder, he could see a quiver and arrows. She had a bow in her hands, and she looked like a cosplayer.

  He blinked as she put her arm through the bow and rested it on her shoulder. She pulled a cloth from her pocket and used it to remove the torque. Once it was off, Tam gasped and bit back a yell. He had no idea what was going on, but he sure as hell didn't want to show weakness in front of Áine McCuill!

  He followed her with his eyes to one of the slumped trolls as she retrieved a long knife. That's when he saw all of them were on the floor, some with arrows protruding from their backs.

  "I—" he said.

  She put a finger to his lips. "Sshh. First, we get out of here." Áine stepped away for a few seconds before he was lowered to the floor. He didn't stand because his ankle gave, and he fell with a thud and rattle of chains to the hard floor.

  "Sorry…my bad," Áine said as she scrambled to his side. She had a key, and still holding the cloth, used it to unlock the shackles from his wrists and then remove the chains from his ankles.

  Tam blinked hard as he looked at the burns on his wrists. "What—happened to me?"

  "Iron. It's what the torque is made of. Something the Unseelie can't tolerate. No…no more questions. We don't have time. They're not dead, Tam. My arrows can't kill them. It takes a lot more power than that. So let's get you on your feet."

  "My ankle…"

  "I know." She picked her way over the downed trolls and gathered everything back in his backpack and grabbed the bodhrán. Tam wiped at his mouth and came away with blood on his hand as she put the drum back in its case (thank goodness they hadn't destroyed that!), and with those added items on her shoulders, made her way back to him. She put the backpack on his back, and he kept his mouth shut at the pressure against his bruised shoulders. She helped him push himself up on wobbly legs. He put his weight on his good ankle as she moved under the shoulder of the bad side and wrangled the case strap over his good shoulder. Her height practically lifted him up, and he stumbled as the room tilted at a fairly wrong angle.

  "I…always wanted to put my arm around you…" Tam winced. Why did I say that? Out loud?

  "Sshh. You're in pain, and you've had the torque on too long. Let's go."

  "But how—"

  "I'll explain everything. Please, Tam. We have to go. I had the element of surprise, but if we linger and they wake…"

  She didn't have to tell him twice. He took in a deep breath, moaned at the pain in his chest, and worked with her to get up the steps. They emerged in a hallway, and he looked to his right. He saw two doors that said "Ladies" and "Gentlemen." Beyond them was another door. But Áine led him in the opposite direction to a larger door. An exterior door.

  They pushed it open together and stepped out into cool night air. Shivering, he tried to move with her down a sidewalk. He looked back to see they'd been in…

  He had no idea where he was, but it wasn't in Cambridge.

  A very, very loud roar stopped them both.

/>   "Crap," Áine said. "I'd hoped they'd stay out longer, but Magnus is a strong one."

  "You…you know him?"

  "I know of him. I need you to move to my back."

  "What?"

  She sighed and stepped out from under his shoulder, then presented her back to him and knelt down. "Put your arms around my neck."

  "I'm not sure—"

  "Swallow that human pride and do it!"

  He did it, the muscles in his shoulders screaming the whole time. Instantly, something shifted, and it wasn't him. His dizziness increased, and he almost let go until a voice in his mind said, Hold on!

  That's when he realized he wasn't on Áine's back anymore, but astride a huge, red mare. It turned its head to look at him and snort, and he grabbed hold of her mane seconds before the door to the building slammed open and Magnus appeared. The horse took off.

  Chapter 2

  Something tickled his nose.

  Tam reached up and batted it away, but whatever it was, it was persistent. "Stop," he muttered as he rolled over and buried his head in the sheets. "Just let me sleep."

  "You've been asleep for three days," came a sort of familiar voice. "I think it's time you woke."

  Wait…three days?

  He opened his eyes again and looked at the sheets. They were blue, and dirty, and not his. He turned back to his right and looked up at the ceiling. Definitely wasn't his room, unless he lived in a trailer. His uncle, Bogs, lived in a trailer, so he was intimately familiar with what they looked like.

  In fact…that ceiling looked at lot like his uncle's trailer.

  He snapped his head to the right and stared up into the grisly face of Uncle Bogs. "What—"

  "I said"—Bogs held up the feather he'd been teasing under Tam's nose. He spoke in his old diluted accent—"it's time you got up, boy-o."

  "So where…" Tam pushed himself up and then stopped. "Ow!" he said in a rush of air as his body protested the sudden movement.

  "Aye. You're going to be a bit sore, laddie. But you've got your mum's genes and your da's tenacity. You've healed up nicely."

  "My what?" Tam stared up at his uncle's face. He hadn't seen the man in what…ten years? And he looked exactly the same. "How did I…what did I…” And then he looked down at himself. He was pretty much nude except for the occasional bandage, covered in just the brown-stained blue sheets.

  "Let's take this a bit slower, shall we?" Bogs let the feather fall to the bed, and Tam picked it up. It was black with an iridescent sheen. "That's a crow’s feather." Bogs pulled up a chair and sat in it as he crossed his legs and his arms. "I'm afraid there's bad news to be had with that feather."

  "A crow?" Tam turned the feather between his fingers. "Bad news?"

  "Take a minute. Your memory will catch up in a second or two. But while it's reboot'n, have this." Bogs turned and lifted one of his sturdy mugs from the nightstand. "This is the best thing for what ails you."

  "What is it?" Tam set the feather aside and took the mug. He remembered this mug from his childhood. And he remembered his uncle drinking some crazy stuff from it. "This isn't your old grog, is it?"

  Bogs laughed. "I see your memory's on the mend. Good. Never know when it comes to Faery healing. But we Leprechauns"—he beat on his chest—"we got stamina. Makes us hardy folk."

  Staring into the amber liquid, Tam processed his uncle's words. At first, they didn't make any damn sense, but as he watched the liquid swirl and move, he remembered…everything.

  Unfortunately, he sloshed the mug as he yanked the sheet up to look at his ankle. Bogs grabbed the mug and held it back as Tam did a quick body check. His last memory was that he'd been covered in bruises and scrapes and he had broken bones. That he was sure of. A look at his wrists showed no burns, and he put his hands to his face.

  "I see you've come back," Bogs said and set the mug back on the table. "That's good. We have a lot to talk about, you and me, and not a lot of time to do it. I'd hoped to have this conversation when you were younger, but your da wasn't having any of what he called my nonsense filling your head."

  "My da—you mean my dad?"

  "Your stepdad. Phil. The Kirkpatrick who raised you." Bogs sat forward on his chair. "You remember the trolls?"

  "Yeah," Tam nodded. "But that had to be fake, right? I couldn't have seen real trolls."

  "Do you remember how you got out of that place?"

  He did. "One of the girls from my step dancing…" Tam stared wide-eyed at Bogs. "She had a bow and arrow, and she turned into a horse!"

  "Aye, she did. Because she's one of the Clurichaun."

  Tam blinked. "The what?"

  "Damn, child. I thought you were a student of folklore. The Lin protectors? They're the soldiers that guard the lineage." Bogs pursed his thick lips, and his mustache poked out like bristles. "This is going to be a bit harder than I thought. Do you not remember anything from your mother?"

  "I can't even remember my mother. I barely remember you." Tam ran his fingers through his hair. "So, you can tell me right now, was my mom crazy? You said I had her genes, so crazy is in our family, right? Because you just sounded like you believe trolls are real."

  Bogs didn't say anything for a few seconds, then he stood and walked across the room. The floor creaked and the trailer swayed as it always did with his uncle's weight. Bogs returned with a mirror and held it out to Tam. "Take a look for yourself. There's a spell that covers this world, one that prevents us from being seen by the regular folk. I think with what you've just gone through, or perhaps the wearing of a torque, your Faery sight's finally broken through that spell. It allowed you to see the trolls for what they are, and I'm sure you'll be able to see yourself now."

  "What are you talking about?"

  Bogs nodded to the mirror. "Have a look. I think they're more fetching, but you're going to have to learn basic glamour if you want to go back out in the waking world."

  Tam glanced at himself in the mirror, just to check for bruising, and he was pretty sure he'd suffered a busted lip and broken nose. His face was bruised, there was no getting around that, and a closer look at his neck exposed a light ring around part of it. That's where that torque thing had been.

  And then he looked at his cheek—

  He saw them. Sticking up out of his hair. With his jaw hanging open, Tam reached up and traced the points of his ears to make sure they were real. "What…what did you do to me?"

  Bogs laughed. "I didn't do anythin' to you, boy-o. That was your mum and da."

  "My ears…" He checked the other one. And other than that, he looked fine. In fact…given the beating he'd taken, he looked… "I'm okay.”

  "As I said, we have a hearty constitution, and since you were given time and this is your first regeneration, all's well. But like I said, your true nature's peeking through."

  "True nature…" Tam dropped the mirror and pushed back. "I'm…I'm a…" He blinked at Bogs. "What am I? You said Leprechaun."

  "Half, because your real da was human, and your mother is the daughter of the former King of the Leprechauns, Seamus Lin. Unfortunately, you being an Unseelie didn't sit too well. So now you're here. And your mum was here. Came to stay with your da, who was human."

  "Unsee…wait, wait." Tam put his hands on his face. "Like you said, I'm a folklore student at Harvard. I know what Unseelie means, and I'm not an evil Faery."

  Bogs roared with laughter. When he finished, he slapped his knees. "No, you're not. And that's not what an Unseelie is, boy-o. The Seelie are the pureblood. Complete and all Faery. Like myself. But, the hybrids, the halfsies like you, you're the Unseelie."

  "That's…" He wanted to say ridiculous. But Tam realized all too quick his idea of ridiculous had now gone through a shocking shift of perspective. "I'm…a Leprechaun."

  "Aye."

  "You're a…"

  "Leprechaun."

  "But we're not three feet tall with red hair and green suits…" He closed his eyes with a long, frustrated sigh. He was thinking of the
stereotype, the image and cultural identification that kept the idea of Leprechauns in the realm of fiction and fairy tale. What he saw in the mirror was based on the reality. "That's a…what they call a red herring, isn't it? The short, fat red-haired man dressed in green with big buckled shoes?"

  "Aye, but don't feel bad, Tam. That's the way we want it." Bogs stood, grabbed a stack of clothing, and tossed it at Tam. "Get dressed. You know where everything is. And drink that mug. It'll finish the healing and clear your head. Áine should be back any minute."

  Tam caught the clothing and waited until Bogs shut the door. He started to bound out of bed and stopped, remembering his ankle. Looking down, he couldn't see any damage, and when he stood, it didn't hurt.

  He slipped on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but not the dark green hoodie. These were his clothes, so someone went to his house to get them. He sniffed the mug, and then downed it all at once. It was both bitter and sweet and left the aftertaste of bark in the back of his throat. Tam meandered through the stacks of things his uncle Bogs liked to collect to the kitchen at the other end of the trailer.

  Bogs motioned for him to sit at the table and set a plate of his famous heart-stopping fried breakfast in front of him. Eggs, sausage, bacon, hash browns, and a cup of black coffee. Tam devoured it as fast as he could, not stopping to breathe or talk, as Bogs leaned against the counter.

  When Tam finished, he smiled. "I really, really needed that."

  "Aye, you did. You've been out of the world for nearly a week."

  "Out of the world?"

  "Off the grid." Bogs came forward and sat at the table with his own mug. "You'd been missing for two days when Áine tracked you down. And you've been here for three. That's five days and no one's seen you. You've been on the news. Luckily I let your stepda know you were with me. You'd been attacked by thugs and I came in to help, though I made sure he didn’t know that. That way he didn't cut his trip short. Figured while this mess went on, it was best he stay out of town."

  Five days? Tam sipped his coffee as he thought back over his experience in the basement. "The trolls…they really were trolls."