Once Upon A Curse: 17 Dark Faerie Tales Read online

  "Aye."

  "I don't understand what it was they did to me. I mean they put this thing on my neck. Called it a torque, but I've read about those."

  "Forget what you've read and use that knowledge only as a reference, Tam. A torque is what the Morrigan uses against the Unseelie. Because you have Faery blood, and yours is particularly strong, the iron in it won't kill you immediately like it would Áine or myself. For you, it lingers and keeps you in a fugue state, not living nor dying. In constant pain and willing to do anything the one who places it on you wants you to do."

  Tam rotated his coffee cup on the table. "You just said a whole bunch of stuff that didn't make much sense to me. When you say the Morrigan, you mean—"

  "The exact one you've probably read about in your books. She's been the Queen of Faery for several hundred years now. But only in the past hundred or so was she able to gain control of the Unseelie court."

  "Why? If they're not evil like you say and just hybrids…why try to control them? Why come after me? Just because I'm a half-breed?"

  Bogs moved his mug out of the way. "There's several answers here, and you're going to have to listen carefully. I wasn't kidding about the time issue. About a century ago, the Morrigan had a dream. Now, she doesn't dream often these days, so when she does, she's convinced herself they're prophetic. Do the rest of us believe it?" He shrugged. "I think she's mad. But the danger is she believes it. And in that dream, an Unseelie defeated her. Unseated her from the throne. Stripped her of her power. That's why she's gone out of her way to destroy and enslave the Unseelie. The problem with that plan is the Faery are, by nature, a very lascivious lot. We like to breed."

  Tam snorted. "Uh huh. Which is why I'm alive."

  "Aye. Remember the spell I mentioned? The one that keeps people from seeing things? Spirits, Faeries, all those things that worked their way into culture as myth and legend? Now, this also made it harder for the Morrigan to find Unseelie like you. She has to know you exist to look for you."

  "And she knows I exist. Why does she know this?"

  "We're not sure who told her. But she's particularly invested in you because you're a Leprechaun."

  Tam rubbed his chin and noticed it was smooth. No growth at all for five days. "I'm not following. I never thought, or read, of the Leprechaun being that important in the Faery World."

  "Of course not. And we'd like to keep it that way. Tam, we're descendants of the Tuatha de Danann. We have power and abilities the Morrigan doesn't. We're also mortal enemies." He pointed at Tam. "And you have something no other Leprechaun still possesses, and she wants it."

  "What? A pot of gold?" He laughed and then stopped when he noticed Bogs wasn't laughing. "Oh crap…are you serious? I have a pot of gold?"

  "Och…think with your heart, and not that learned rot. What is it that a Leprechaun possesses that no other myth does? Besides the gold?"

  He had to think hard on that since he'd never really given Leprechauns much attention in his studies. He's always been more interested in the families, and the kings and queens, of Ireland, the mythic fights and land grabs that, until five days ago, he believed had been turned into myth and legend.

  Tam thought back to the basement, the trolls demanding he make it shift. They thought his bodhrán was something important. "It's not my drum."

  "No, but your drum is a part of your particular heritage. Your mother made it?"

  "Yes."

  "Thought so, it feels like her. And don't worry, it's safe. We put it away."

  That was a relief. "They said"—Tam pointed to the table—"they wanted me to give it to them. Make the bodhrán shift into it. But I had no idea what they were talking about."

  "Ah"—Bogs slowly nodded—"they believed your drum was your shillelagh."

  Tam did a double take. "My…they want my shillelagh? They think I have a walking stick?"

  "Oh Tam, it is no mere walking stick. There was a time before the Morrigan when the Leprechaun ruled the hills. Even the Daoine Sidhe paid homage to us and called upon the magic of our shillelaghs to smite their enemies." He gave Tam a crooked smile. "The Morrigan stole all of the shillelaghs in the Faery Realms, Tam. Sent her crows all over, and like the thieves they are, they took them. Robbed us of our power. Our gold turned to lead, and our influence over the land waned."

  "You're saying…I have a shillelagh?"

  "I'm saying you have the last shillelagh. And the Morrigan wants it. We have to find it before she finds you. Or your hope of survival, and ours, is lost."

  Chapter 3

  Áine knocked on the trailer door at that moment, but stepped in before Bogs could answer. When she saw Tam, she smiled, and then frowned. She pointed a finger at him. He noticed she wasn't wearing the leather anymore. She looked like she always had in jeans, sweater, Vans, and a jacket.

  "Why in the hell did you go out alone that night?"

  Tam sat back, unsure of what to say. He also noticed her ears weren't pointed. He reached up and touched his own. They were once again round.

  Bogs waved his hand. "Sorry. But we don't have time to teach you glamour right now, so I fixed them."

  "Oh, ah…" He noticed Áine still had her finger pointed at him. "Because I've walked that same route home before. I didn't think it was dangerous."

  "That's the first mistake." She lowered her hand and set a bag on the table next to Tam's empty plate. "Routine. They'd been watching you, just like they watched all those others. They memorize your routine, and they wait until you're vulnerable. If you'd had your Harley, that might not have happened."

  "You know I ride a Harley?" Tam rubbed at his chin. "I didn't think you even knew I existed."

  "I'm pretty sure your uncle's filled you in on what I am."

  "Yeah, and I can't pronounce it."

  "Regardless, I was assigned as your protector over a year ago."

  Now that was interesting. A year ago was when she showed up in his class. "And I'm the only reason you're here?" He couldn't help but smile. "Me?"

  "And the college has a decent folklore department, but it's sorely lacking in facts. Which is just the way we like it." She pushed the bag to him. "Here are more of your clothes."

  Peering inside, he saw jeans, socks, shirts and… He blushed scarlet. "You went through my underwear drawer?"

  "Get over yourself, Kirkpatrick."

  "You could have grabbed the gun."

  Now she snorted. "I didn't think you knew how to operate one of those, and given the last situation I rescued you from, I didn't want to induce any more bodily harm."

  "What the hell?" He put his hands on the table. "I can shoot. I've been trained to shoot, and I'm a damn good shot. So get off my back."

  She smirked and looked at Bogs. "I stayed there a good three hours. Inside and then on the street. I don't think they're watching the house."

  "But they were there," Bogs said.

  "Yeah. I could smell the troll dung in the back. Nasty creatures." She moved to the kitchen and leaned against the fridge. It was a small enclosure, so they were still close together. "Tam, I got the sense you don't know where your shillelagh is."

  "You'd be right. I didn't even know I had one till like…ten seconds ago." Tam put his hands in his lap and leaned back in the chair. "How can I have something I don't know anything about?"

  "It's part of our magic, boy-o." Bogs leaned to his left. "As a Leprechaun, you're born with it. It's like a…part of you that connects you to the Earth. To spirits, like nymphs and dryads. And usually, when a Leprechaun comes of age, their forebears help them find theirs."

  "Forebears?"

  "Fathers. Mothers. Family," Áine said. "But you didn't have either, not of your own. I didn't realize the one you lived with wasn't your natural father."

  "So this is bad?" Tam asked. Avoiding discussion about family was something he'd always done, so moving on seemed natural. And he was really, really interested in this shillelagh.

  "There's always the possibility the Morrigan wil
l find it first, since she and her crows can sense magic. But given the dampening spell…" She shrugged. "It makes it hard on any of us. The best way for you to find it is to let it call to you."

  "Call…to me? What, you mean like some mysterious message?" He was trying to be funny, so when they both nodded, Tam sighed. "Guys, I don't know what it is, what it looks like, and I wouldn't recognize it if it walked up and punched me in the face."

  "This is true." Áine nodded. "The boy's got no magical talent."

  "Hey"—Tam frowned at her—"that's not fair. You probably grew up knowing you were…whatever that word is."

  "Yes, I did. I'm Seelie. I was raised in Faery. Not like this." She scratched the back of her head. "From what I read, your shillelagh is usually close to you. It manifests in something, or by something, or around something familiar and comforting to you."

  A phone went off. Áine pulled hers out of her pocket and checked the face. "Looks like the trolls were spotted."

  "Where?" Bogs asked.

  "North of the campus. They're staying there, keeping an eye out for the Prince."

  "I am not a prince!" Tam ran a hand through his hair. He needed a shower. Clean clothes didn't help the gooey feeling he had, not to mention he'd bled all over that bed. He should wash those sheets and get them back to Bogs clean.

  "Can I at least go home?"

  Both of them turned to look at him. "No," they said in unison.

  He moved back toward the stacks of things in the middle of the trailer.

  "Sorry, Tam," Áine said. "But you need to stay out of sight. You want them to take you again, knowing what they'll do?"

  "There's no guarantee they'd be able to do that again. They had the element of surprise."

  "Look, it's not a big thing, okay? Just stay here. I'll be back in a few hours." She smiled at him. "Just get more sleep, okay? You've still got circles under your eyes."

  Tam watched her leave and plopped down on the chair. "I can't stay cooped up in here. Bogs, I need my gun."

  He remained by the fridge. "Can you really shoot as well as you say?"

  "Yeah. I don't know if bullets can hurt trolls, but I'd like to have some kind of weapon with me."

  "Oh, bullets can hurt them. They just don't stop them. Not like spelled weapons, such as Áine's blades and her bow."

  He remembered seeing those and the way she'd used them. Or rather, he'd seen the aftermath. He knew if he ever got out of line with her, she'd kick his ass. "So…can my gun be spelled?"

  "No. Too much iron." Bogs narrowed his eyes at Tam. "So how is it you can touch it and use it?"

  "The grip's pearl, and most of the gun's an alloy. I'm not sure how much iron's even in the thing. So how is it that I never noticed iron before? I mean I saw their troll heads. Is that right?"

  Thunder sounded in the distance, and Tam felt a chill run up his spine as Bogs pursed his lips, his mustache once again bristling out. "You saw their true faces when they took you, or after?"

  "When they took me."

  "Interesting." He patted his sides and grabbed a wallet off the counter. "Let's go."

  "Where?"

  "To your house."

  Tam hesitated. "Why the sudden change of heart? And don't tell me it's because you think me having a gun is important."

  Bogs shrugged. "Áine's right. Your shillelagh should manifest as something close to you, something that gives you comfort. I suspect whatever that is, might be in the home you grew up in. Looking around for such an item seems…reasonable? And…you can get your gun."

  Tam smiled and followed his uncle out the door. "Won't Áine be angry? She said I had to stay in the trailer."

  "Aye. But she also said they weren't watching your house." He looked up at the darkening sky. "The lightning will cover your scent. But let's hurry before we get wet. Nothing smells worse than old, wet Leprechaun."

  They took the train to Cambridge, and then walked the two blocks from the station to the house where Tam lived with his stepdad. It looked like every other two-story house on the road. Close beside its neighbor, and painted beige with a screened in front porch.

  Tam led Bogs around the back where he lifted a key from a fake rock and went inside. Bogs pulled Tam back and stepped out in front of him with his hand up in a warning. Tam was pretty sure nobody was in the house, but he stayed put in the kitchen, grabbing a drink from the fridge and waiting until Bogs came back. "She's right. I smell troll."

  "I don't smell anything." Tam headed to the stairs a bit too enthusiastically. Once he reached the stop step, he decided he wasn't going to do that again because it made his ankle flare.

  "Hey Tam," Bogs yelled up.

  "Yeah?"

  "You don't have a favorite stuffed teddy, do you?"

  Tam made a face. "No. Please don't tell me that's what your shillelagh was?"

  "I won't be admitting to that, no."

  Tam pulled the tin box from under his bed and retrieved the Desert Eagle his stepdad bought him for Christmas when he turned eighteen. He kept it well cleaned and unloaded. Setting it on the bed, he pulled the ammo out of his nightstand drawer and slipped in a full magazine. He had two more ready to go and slipped those into his pockets. But as he reached for the pocket watch on the nightstand that his real dad had left him, he froze.

  Panic set in. He was locked in place, staring straight ahead at the watch, focused on the vine-like etchings over the surface, his fingers inches from it, but he couldn't move forward or backward. This wasn't the same as having the torque placed on him. This was something completely different.

  "Leprechauns," came a deep, gravelly voice from behind him, "cannot move when focused with a gaze of intent, Tam Lin." Magnus put his hand on Tam's shoulder. "No more playing around. This time, I’ll take you to the Morrigan herself."

  Chapter 4

  Tam couldn't believe this was happening. I'm being held in place because he's looking at me? How in the hell is that possible?

  The troll's beefy paw brought the torque around so Tam could see it. "I want you to look at this long and hard, Leprechaun. This is going to be last independent sight you'll see. Because once I give you to her? She'll place her own torque around your neck and you'll think, say, see, and do anything she tells you to. Including giving her your shillelagh."

  Tam swallowed. It was about all he could do as Magnus brought the semicircular-shaped band closer.

  "Hey! Dipshit!"

  Áine! Run!

  "Run! Get out of here!" Tam had been straining his muscles so hard to move that once the hold on him was severed, he pitched forward, slammed into the nightstand, and rolled onto the carpet. The watch slipped off with the motion and struck him in the back of the head. Tam grabbed it and put it in his pocket.

  "You little witch!" Magnus's attention was focused solely on Áine. Tam reversed directions and rolled under the bed as he watched the troll's boots stomp out of the room. Áine had broken his gaze on Tam and was leading Magnus away. He didn't plan on losing the advantage.

  After rolling back out from under the bed, he grabbed the remaining magazines, stuffed them into his pockets, and then he ran down the steps as he heard shouts and felt the house vibrate. The air became thick with the smell of burnt hair and smoke as he quickly, but carefully, descended the stairs. He spotted his uncle hiding behind his stepdad's bookcase in the living room and frowned at him.

  Bogs pointed to the kitchen and then put his finger to his lips. So Magnus is through there. Where is Áine?

  In answer, he heard her yell, and then another slam. He recognized the swump of her arrows and then a thud. Descending the rest of the steps, Tam put his back against the wall next to the doorframe leading from the living room stairs into the kitchen. He peered around the frame to see Magnus holding Áine by her neck. Her boots kicked underneath her as he raised her toward the ceiling.

  Blood dripped onto the linoleum. Áine's blood.

  "Now we will see just how long a Clurichaun witch can last without air," Magnus
said as he snarled up at her.

  Tam fought the urge to run out and just start firing. His stepfather had taught him better than that. Bullets were a commodity and not something to be squandered in a fight. Every strike, whether using a knife, a gun, or even an arrow, should be directed toward a purpose.

  He didn't know a lot about trolls, other than they were big and strong. He didn't know if they carried the same allergy to iron as himself and other denizens of Faery. He didn't know their weakness as a race. So, it was time to go for the obvious.

  What was the best thing to shoot at when the opportunity presented itself? What was the one thing all defense teachers told possible victims to go for? The softest, most vulnerable advantage an attacker had.

  Their eyes.

  And without his eyes, that bastard can't lock me in place like that again. Tam grinned.

  He leveled his gun, aimed at the bastard's face and remembered to breathe as he fired three shots. At least one of the bullets hit true as blood splattered Áine and the floor, and Magnus dropped her. The troll roared out and spun around as he slapped his hands to his face and blundered into the kitchen table, which promptly collapsed under his weight.

  "Tam, look out!"

  Tam started to dive for Áine just as something grabbed his left leg. Burning pain preceded him being yanked from the doorway where he slammed into the hardwood floor. Or rather, his head did. He lost his grip on the gun as his vision blurred just a bit, and he thought for a second what he was seeing just wasn't real.

  A huge, gray wolf loomed over him, its barred fangs dripping with blood. Tam's blood. He realized the thing had bitten his calf and used it as leverage to bring him down. The wolf growled just before it opened its jaws wide. Tam knew the beast planned on taking out his jugular.

  A shot made Tam jump. One of the wolf's eyes exploded. Tam felt something warm and sticky spray his face. The wolf cried out as it swung its head back and forth and backed away. Tam turned over to see Bogs in the center of the living room with one of his stepfather's shotguns in his hands. Smoke slipped from the barrel.