Charmed Vengeance
Eight: The Lives and Times of Air Pirates
Seventeen: Getting Down to Business
Twenty Two: Where Do We Go From Here?
The cannon ships loomed in the distance, each hydrogen-filled balloon floating above a tiny cabin with cannons on all sides. Cannon ships were meant for two things—chasing ships and shooting them down.
When her true love, Steven, is forced to break their magical bond, Noli Braddock’s only option is to join the crew of the air pirate ship piloted by her brother, Jeff. With its gleaming brass, dark wood, and spotless clockwork gears, the Vixen’s Revenge is no ordinary air pirate ship. Beneath its polished exterior lies a dangerous secret—the crew has been hired by a mysterious man from the Otherworld to steal dozens of magical artifacts from museums scattered throughout the mortal world.
While taking charge of the ship’s elaborate steam-powered engines, Noli discovers that the man buying the artifacts is none other than Brogan, king of the earth court. And if he manages to collect all the pieces of the powerful high court sigil, he will use it to kill Steven and destroy the very fabric of the Otherworld.
Praise for
Innocent Darkness
:
“In addition to an intriguing world and cast . . . this first book in the Aether Chronicles has style and substance to spare.”
—Publishers Weekly
Charmed Vengeance
© 2013 by Suzanne Lazear.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage,
without written permission from Flux, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Book design by Bob Gaul
Cover design by Kevin R. Brown
Cover art: Blonde surfer © iStockphoto.com/Matthew Scherf
Glamour beauty © iStockphoto.com/Alexey Ivanov Lady skipper © iStockphoto.com/gaspr13
Retro steampunk man © iStockphoto.com/Renee Keith Sextant © iStockphoto.com/Bruno Buongiorno Nardelli
Flux, an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover model used for illustrative purposes only and may not endorse or represent the book’s subject.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data (Pending) 978-0-7387-3302-9
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—Edgar Allan Poe,
“Fairy-Land”
The Sacrifice
“Welcome everyone to this special day.” High Queen Tiana’s voice carried over the crowd. “We gather here, as we always do, to honor the magic. Without it we wouldn’t exist, and neither would the Otherworld.” She paused and looked at the people assembled in front of the Lake of Sorrows, basking in the attention. “Like everything else, the magic must be nourished or it grows weak and fades away. We bring nourishment to her as thanks for all she does for us.”
In her chair, Charlotte shivered in spite of herself. James stood beside her, squeezing her hand. She gave him a reassuring smile in return. She was ready to go, but the love of her life wasn’t as at peace with her decision. At least they’d had this much time together. For that she was grateful. She looked at James and her friends Noli and V. Soon, it would be time.
Certainly, today was a festive occasion and she took comfort that the end of her life was celebratory, not somber. A big arch of greenery, purple and gold flowers, and ribbons had been constructed in front of the Lake of Sorrows at the edge of the wildwood.
“This has been a trying cycle, as it grows harder and harder to find the right mortal girl,” the queen continued. “But a girl with the Spark has been found. This mortal girl
volunteered
to be the sacrifice, offering up her life to preserve all of ours. It gives me hope that there are still young mortals willing to make such a choice.” Queen Tiana looked at Charlotte and smiled. It wasn’t comforting but triumphant.
Everyone seemed to think so much of the fact she’d volunteered. But she was
dying.
Since she had the Spark, that extra bit of something some mortals had, why shouldn’t her death mean something? She’d rather feed the land, the sentient magic that composed the Otherworld and kept all its citizens alive, than die unwanted and forgotten.
Charlotte looked at Noli, who’d turned away, her face contorting in pain. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t get her friend to understand. V pulled Noli to him and she leaned her head against his chest.
“Noli, I chose this,” Charlotte whispered. “This way it means something. Remember that, all of you. Take care of him, please?” Charlotte whispered to Noli and V. She prayed James didn’t mourn her too long.
“Of course we will.” V clapped her shoulder.
Charlotte squeezed Noli’s hand. “Live your life. Be with V, go to the university, invent wondrous things, and be a great botanist.”
All Noli’s dear and secret dreams. She had so much to live for.
“I’ll try, I’ll try so hard, Lottie.” Tears pricked Noli’s eyes. Noli bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend like you.”
Her friends. Her dear and wondrous friends.
Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw the queen nod to James. Even though her belly should dip, she should feel fear at the idea of dying, she didn’t. Between the injuries from her uncle and the brain tumor, not only had she been in more pain than she’d let her friends know, but she’d made her peace.
She was ready to go.
James gulped—and
that
wrenched her heart. Bending down, his lips brushed over hers, lingering, his hand cradling the back of her neck.
When he broke his kiss off, he gazed into her eyes. “I love you, Charlotte Wilson.”
“I love you too, James Darrow.” She lost herself in his green eyes. Reaching up, her fingers traced a line up his jaw as she memorized his face. Her love, her savior. If not for him she would have died in an ally in Georgia instead of spending her final days loved, cherished, and the center of attention here in the Otherworld.
The queen cleared her throat and James let out a heavy, defeated sigh which echoed through the oddly quiet clearing. Charlotte nodded to James. Yes, it was time.
Lips pressed together so hard they went white, he pushed her in her chair until they stood in front of the arch with the queen. A tall and lanky man with a permanent leer also lurked nearby. A long knife dangled at his belt, the purple jewels on its hilt winking. The ritual knife. The one that had killed each mortal girl since the sacrifices began.
Still, Charlotte wasn’t afraid. She gazed at the crowd. People jockeyed for position, children on their parents’ shoulders, as they gathered around the arch, the Lake of Sorrows glimmering behind them. Even Ciarán, the dark king, with his band of ruffians had turned out. Air Fae filled the pink skies, the silvery lake splashed as water Fae drew close to watch the ritual that meant they, their land, and their magic, would continue on.
“Thank you everyone,” she told them. “Thank you for the parties and the presents, for giving a girl without the will to live a purpose.” She turned to James, “and thank you, for loving me, for staying with me.” The words
thank you
meant something in the Otherworld.
“You owe me no debt, Lottie love.” James’ face grew tight as his eyes filled with pain. He stood behind her, gripping her hand. Never would she have been able to do this without him.
“And as it has been, so will it be done—and her blood will spill on the ground, her Spark nourishing the magic.” The queen flung out her hands in a dramatic gesture. The huntsman approached, unsheathing the knife.
Still, she wasn’t afraid. After being abused by her uncle, the harsh life at Findlay House where she’d met Noli, and what had happened before James found her in that ally, she had nothing to fear from a mere knife or the ruffian in gold and purple who wielded it.
Charlotte held out her hand and James helped her rise from the chair into a standing position. Her uncle may have taken away her ability to walk, but she wasn’t about to sit as she was sacrificed. James understood this. His arms wrapped around her in protection, love, and support as she leaned heavily on him and they moved until she stood on the grass.
Tilting her head up, she kissed him one last time, savoring his sweetness. “Remember, James,” she whispered. “The best way to remember me is to live your life— and make sure Noli lives hers as well. I don’t want to be mourned.”
