Faerie Godmother: Mythic Series Book 1 Read online

  Faerie Godmother

  Mythic, Volume 1

  Abbie Zanders

  Published by Abbie Zanders, 2016.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  FAERIE GODMOTHER

  First edition. June 13, 2016.

  Copyright © 2016 Abbie Zanders.

  Written by Abbie Zanders.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Faerie Godmother (Mythic, #1)

  Acknowledgements

  Before You Begin

  Chapter 1 – Something’s Different

  Chapter 2 – Yep, Definitely Different

  Chapter 3 – Whew, That Was a Close One

  Chapter 4 – Looking for Answers

  Chapter 5 - Busted

  Chapter 6 – Come to My Web...

  Chapter 7 – Another Offer

  Chapter 8 – Bond, Vampire Bond

  Chapter 9 – Under Watchful Eyes

  Chapter 10 – Well, That Was Unexpected

  Chapter 11 – So Much for Keeping Secrets

  Chapter 12 – Ready or Not...

  Chapter 13 – It Just Got Real

  Chapter 14 – Into the Vampire’s Lair

  Chapter 15 – Truth and Compromise

  Chapter 16 – You Expect Me to Sleep Where?

  Chapter 17 – It’s All Coming Back

  Chapter 18 – On Pixies and Faeries and Battles

  Chapter 19 – Don’t Mess with Destiny

  Chapter 20 – HEA in 3, 2, 1...

  Thanks for reading Vlane and Ana’s story

  If you liked this book...

  About the Author

  Also by Abbie Zanders

  Faerie Godmother

  (Mythic Series #1)

  Acknowledgements

  Amazing cover and series design by Marisa @ www.covermedarling.com

  Stock photos from www.depositphotos.com and www.pixabay.com

  Professional editing by the incomparable M. E. Weglarz of megedits.com, a woman with a true gift for spotting plot holes, character anomalies, black holes, and other potential WTFs. Thank you, Meg, from the bottom of my heart.

  And special thanks to some very special ladies – Anjee Zable, Heather Black, Kasey Belle, Tonya Baker, Maddie Wade, and C.E. Black (and a few of you who prefer to remain unnamed – you know who you are) - for agreeing to beta read this book and providing such wonderful feedback. This is a better story because of them!

  ... and THANK YOU to all of you for selecting this book. You didn’t have to, but you did.

  Before You Begin

  Faerie Godmother is the first book in my Mythic series. Each story is a full book in and of itself, a standalone story of paranormal romance with plenty of humor and emotion.

  Within the pages, you will encounter vampires, shifters, angels, demons, fae, witches, mages, goddesses... just to name a few. It is only recently that these Extraordinaries, as they call themselves, coexist peacefully in the idyllic community of Mythic. Very few know of their existence; understandably, they prefer to keep to themselves. However, you’ve been granted a special look into the world of these amazing being. But be warned -—once you visit Mythic, you might not want to leave.

  WARNING: This book contains some adult language and situations, and is intended for mature (18+) readers only.

  Chapter 1 – Something’s Different

  “There he is! Quick, grab his arms and help me drag him into the shade.”

  Vlane heard the voices, but they were oddly muted and far away, as if someone had left that infernal box squawking in the other room again. He tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t. Nor, it seemed, could he roll over. The previous night’s party event must have gone much better than expected if he was in this poor condition. He had no conscious memory of imbibing so heavily. Actually, he had no conscious memory of anything, really.

  He felt an odd sensation, a stretching kind of pressure in his arms and legs. Was he on a rack, then? In the earlier days of his conversion, it had been one of his favorites. There was nothing quite like having your extremities pulled tight while an entire village doused you with holy water and tried to drive a stake into your heart, mistakenly believing piercing an already-dormant object would matter. Idiots.

  Ah, he did miss the Middle Ages. A simpler time, really. Fewer choices. People weren’t as educated. Bloodline determined everything, but even across social barriers, there were some universal truths when it came to the undead. Topping that list: Vampires were immortal, barring beheading and being subsequently burned to ash, of course. Only a phoenix could survive that.

  Another: Vampires were neither damned nor soulless. Many, in fact, were quite pious. They were simply a highly evolved form of a basic human, possessing greater strength, speed, and superior intelligence.

  And, after hundreds of years of existence, even vampires could succumb to the inevitable drain of ennui.

  It was the last that had begun to overshadow the benefits of the first two these past hundred years or so. Vlane’s life had become so predictable, so monotonous, even this slight variation (uncomfortable as it was) was welcome. A bit of pain always enhanced the mundane, as did anything that caused his quiescent neurons to start firing again. Pain, sex, strong emotions — all things Vlane had not personally experienced in a very long time.

  Yes, he realized sadly, even this slight discomfort was welcome. If it had been an option, he might have preferred some rather vigorous sex. Though, after several centuries, even that had become rote and bromidic. Women – especially human women – were predictable, and often too frail to sate his carnal hungers adequately. He could follow Kristoff’s example and simply indulge in multiple women at one time, thus dividing his focus and subsequently making it easier for a human woman to tolerate, but that wasn’t really his style.

  At heart, Vlane was an old-fashioned, one-woman-at-a-time kind of guy. In his romanticized ideal, it would be the same woman, over and over again, but alas, he had yet to encounter a single female he wanted to revisit once, let alone repeatedly. They were all the same — barring slight variations in physical appearance, of course. Not one had stood out, or called to him on a level deeper than his cock.

  Which was rather disappointing after centuries and centuries of looking for the right one.

  “Watch his head. Lift it. No, higher.”

  A sharp stab of pain at the back of his head preceded a muttered curse (was that Latin?) and a sudden tug upward.

  “Oh, sorry about that, Vlane.”

  The jarring sensation he now felt across his buttocks was even less welcome than the stretching of his limbs. Was he being spanked? Vlane had enjoyed a good caning a time or two, but again, that was more Kristoff’s area of expertise. Of course, there was a heady rush to be found in a lush feminine behind blushing from a healthy caress. But this...this wasn’t nearly as enjoyable.

  Then, just as suddenly, it stopped. The air felt cooler than it had been only a few minutes ago. The warm, almost-burning sensation across his face and neck faded quickly as the pulling and jarring ceased, leaving his rather bumped and bruised body gloriously still.

  “Maybe he needs blood. Open your wrist, Kristoff.”

  The voice of his long-time friend and sire, Armand, was both comforting and familiar. Something pushed against Vlane’s mouth an instant before a cool, metallic liquid began dripping down his throat. At first, it pleased him, and he latched onto the source greedily. But then he was gagging on it, finding the taste wholly foul and unpalatable.

  “What the...?” That was definitely Kristoff, the youngest among them at
a mere seventy-five. He caught himself before spewing the vulgar modern colloquialisms eschewed by older, more refined vamps. Vlane, eyes still closed, pushed blindly at Kristoff’s arm.

  “What just happened?” inquired Armand, his angelic voice soft but decidedly clear. Vlane was vaguely aware of Armand leaning over his prone figure, using one of his coveted, centuries-old silk handkerchiefs to wipe at the blood now painting Vlane’s face.

  “He pushed me away.” Kristoff rocked back on his knees, the voice tinged with disbelief and a touch of panic.

  Armand, with the practiced calm of the gentle monk he was, slipped an arm beneath Vlane’s shoulders and lifted him to a slightly better angle. “He is delirious. Try again.”

  Again, something pushed against Vlane’s lips. “Drink!” demanded a gruff male voice. Definitely Kristoff. Vlane didn’t care at all for his progeny’s tone.

  He pushed it away again, more forcefully this time. As a five-hundred-year-old vampire, the strength of his shove should have sent the other male flying far away from him, but Kristoff barely moved. He didn’t even seem to notice.

  “He doesn’t want it!”

  “Dios! Move over, Kristoff. Let me see.”

  Vlane heard the two males shifting around him. His senses were returning little by little. If he could only see...

  His wish was granted when one of his eyelids was lifted and he found himself staring into the face of his housemate. Armand’s unnaturally black eyes opened wide as he peered down, though they appeared slightly out of focus, as if Vlane was viewing them through muted filters. His vision was not nearly as crisp and clear as it should have been, and the colors – those few he could discern - were noticeably less vivid.

  In fact, none of his senses seemed to be working properly.

  “Dulcis et pia Christus,” Armand breathed in his native Latin, sitting back on his heels as he made the sign of the cross. “Sweet and merciful Christ,” he repeated, in English.

  “What? What is it?”

  Armand turned to Kristoff, shock evident on his beatific face. “He is human...”

  * * *

  Ana always knew she was different. Some of her earliest memories were of sitting alone along the banks of the muddy rivers, perched or straddled along the high limbs of a tree, or, more recently, in the darkened living space behind the Mythic Sanctuary, a specialized facility catering to those creatures of an animalistic nature, particularly shifters. It wasn’t that she didn’t like people; she did. But over the years, she had learned that even the best intentioned among them could be seduced all too easily by the temptation she offered.

  She was used to it, but it still hurt.

  It often started so innocently, with well-meaning, sincere desires to do good — easing someone’s pain, bringing a bit of joy and hope to those who needed it most, making the world a better place. The trouble was, nothing ever came without a price. Even the most innocuous, seemingly trivial things had the potential to snowball into much bigger issues, often with unintended, far-reaching effects.

  Most things, she had come to realize, even bad things, happened for a reason.

  Ana was an inherently gentle soul. She did not want to hurt anyone, and never had, as far as she knew. On the contrary, her particular gift was exactly the opposite. Wherever she went, good fortune and prosperity followed.

  Because Ana had the ability to grant wishes.

  Oh, not any wish. There were some rules, limits imposed by whatever power had granted her the unusual ability in the first place. But there was very little she couldn’t do. And over the years, her mysterious power had only grown. The issue was never whether she could alter a situation, but if she should.

  Then again, sometimes the matter was completely out of her hands.

  Ana brought the pads of her fingers to her neck. It was still tender where the dark, handsome stranger punctured her jugular. She’d only been bitten once before, when Bobby Houlihan had come into the diner where she worked with his much younger niece and a couple of girls from her dance class. Good looking, with wavy, blond hair and a shy smile, Bobby had asked her out to the movies when she came to take his order.

  Apparently, Casey Martin, younger sibling of Shelly Martin, who everyone knew had a rather unhealthy obsession with Bobby, didn’t think that was such a good idea and expressed her opinion by biting Ana’s forearm (the Martins weren’t the most stable-minded family in the small town, which might explain why Bobby never quite got around to asking Shelly out).

  Casey hadn’t collapsed on the ground after biting her like the dark, handsome stranger had. But at least Ana didn’t go into seizures this time. Clearly, the vampire – if that’s what he was – had not bitten her with the same malicious intent young Casey had. The sensations Ana had experienced at the dark stranger’s hands had been much, much different.

  Under normal circumstances, Ana had complete control over her gift. She could regulate what, if any, wish would be granted and the extent of it. If someone wished for money, for example, she could gift them with five dollars or five million. But when someone took Ana’s blood, they became the ones in control of the wish. Their deepest, most heartfelt desires in those crucial moments, whatever they were, came to be.

  Casey Martin had wished for Ana to go into a humiliating, full-fledged fit in front of Bobby. What had the dark, handsome vampire wished for?

  Whatever it was, it would only be temporary, lasting a few minutes to perhaps several hours, depending on the amount of blood he had ingested and how quickly he metabolized it. In Casey’s case, she only got a little taste. Ana’s seizures had stopped after several minutes (and before the paramedics arrived, thank goodness), but the vampire had taken several deep pulls before he was overcome. His wish would last longer.

  Ana hoped it had been a good one.

  Chapter 2 – Yep, Definitely Different

  It took a good hour for Vlane to regain the use of all of his faculties. He was vaguely aware of his two companions carrying him back to their manor house and settling him onto the oversized sofa in one of the private living areas. Several more times they tried to feed him blood, but each time the result was the same. The coppery taste was vile upon his tongue and made him want to retch. What he really wanted was a big plate of bacon and eggs. Toast. Home fries smothered in ketchup. And orange juice! Dear God, how long had it been since he’d actually had fruit?

  “It is simply not possible,” Armand muttered over and over again. And each time, he would look deeply into Vlane’s eyes to confirm what he had already seen a dozen times: Vlane’s eyes were a startling, vivid green rather than the typical black eyes of a male vamp, better suited for seeing at night. His skin was warm to the touch, as if his body had absorbed and retained the sunlight in that brief period between the dawn rising and the time they found him (contrary to popular belief, vampires did not burn up in sunlight, but it was uncomfortable). And his heart was beating.

  “Then you explain it.”

  Armand looked stunned. Kristoff looked...incensed. As seamlessly as he had stepped into vampiric life, Kristoff had clung to the passion of human emotions longer than most. They, too, faded a bit more every year, but he was still young enough to remember.

  “The work of a witch, perhaps?” Kristoff’s lip curled up as he said the word. Even among the elitist Otherworldlies (they preferred the term “Extraordinaries”, since they did, in fact, share the same world) who made the town of Mythic their home, he had little tolerance for witches. Probably because one of them left him with a rather nasty case of boils when he told her, point-blank, he would not be calling her again as he shoved her out the door after a particularly lusty night.

  “I have never heard of a witch with this kind of power,” Armand mused. Most Wiccans, in fact, were inherently peace-loving naturalists, using their spells and powers for the greater good (scorned females notwithstanding).

  “Have you heard of anything with this kind of power?”

  Armand shook his head slowly f
or several long moments as he considered the possibilities, running through the mental checklist he’d no doubt made in his mind (Armand was, by nature, very organized). From his prone position on the sofa, Vlane could see Kristoff and Armand, both remarkably similar as they paced the room in puzzlement, offering their thoughts. A thousand years separated them in age, but in terms of appearance, they might have been brothers.

  “Were?”

  “No. They are extremely strong and tend to be rather hairy. Advantageous to have by your side in a brawl or to raze a settlement, but otherwise, not very useful.”

  “Angel?”

  “Perhaps. They are at the top of the magical food chain, but rarely get involved with anyone on earth directly, and they certainly do not bestow or take human life without the express consent of the Supreme Being.”

  An impressive miscellany of magical Extraordinaries (Exies, for short) resided in Mythic and the surrounding area. The location was akin to magnetic north for the supernatural, though at least one-quarter of the population was fully human. It was a symbiotic relationship of sorts between the myriad of species and races, but for the most part, it worked.

  None of them considered the possibility that humans were behind Vlane’s unprecedented return to mortality. They had neither the skills nor the knowledge to accomplish such a feat.

  “Demon?”

  “Probably not. Vlane still has his soul, and no self-respecting demon would go to such effort without taking that.”

  “Hags, mermaids, leprechauns?” Kristoff speculated.

  “No, no, and no.” Armand neatly and categorically dismissed each inhuman race as quickly as they arose.

  “No,” he sighed. “The only type of being I have heard of with that kind of power over life and death are the ancient Fae, the original race, the Tuatha de Denaan, the ones who faded away long ago...”