Page 70 of Fairies Don't Fall

“You shouldn’t be here,” the largest man said, holding a clipboard, frowning at Max like he didn’t like what he saw.

Max rumbled a growl low in his chest. “This is my house you’re demolishing. I come back from vacation, and someone’s tearing it down? You’ve just stepped into a very messy lawsuit.”

The guy’s chin rose as he frowned at Max. “I have all the paperwork here.”

I checked the clipboard. There were a lot of letters on it that I knew. I looked up at Max with a shrug. I was absolutely no help when it came to reading. A flush of shame went through me. Why hadn’t I taken the lessons that would make me a better ruler? Because death-sickness, but why not before? Because I was busy chasing cobwebs and hiding from my duty, like my mother would be queen forever, and I could remain an innocent idiot. Burying your head in the sand never kept anyone from getting their head chopped off.

Max gave me a slight smile before refocusing on clipboard man. “You have the mayor’s signature, but not mine, the owner of the property. He can’t condemn my house without the proper legal proceedings, which you know. He must have paid you very well, but not well enough.” Max ended that in a growl and a flash of teeth.

The guy with the hard hat shook his head. “I’m working on a deadline. And the werewolves belong in Song, in the werewolf district.”

“True,” I said with a bright smile. “Because if you don’t remove your cats and your men, they’ll all be dead.”

“I thought we agreed that there would be no death fairy,” Max murmured to me before refocusing on the guy. “My mate likes my bed. And you’re on private property. I’m running out of patience.”

Clipboard guy raised his phone and called. “Hey, let’s take a break for a minute. We’ve had some new issues come up.” He put down his phone and the big cats went still, engines cutting, so the night was weirdly silent, except for some guy slamming a car door somewhere. “Look, the mayor’s going to kill us if we don’t get this job done fast.”

“And I’m going to kill you if you do,” I whispered.

Max shot me a quick look while I tried to make my eyes big like a sweet, innocent fairy princess who would never kill anyone. “The mayor’s right there,” Max said, pointing to a house at the edge of his grass. “I’ll go talk to him right now. You hold tight. Got it?”

Clipboard guy shrugged. “I’ll come with you. You’re seriously going to wake the mayor up in the middle of the night? You must want more than traffic tickets.”

“Always.”

We headed towards the house behind its fence and trees, through a garden with a lovely pond lit with subtle sparkling lights, and then we were at the mayor’s back door.

Max pounded on it like he was trying to knock the door down with his fist. Boom, boom, boom! No one could sleep through that.

Except the mayor. The house stayed quiet, still, empty. He wasn’t still at the ball in Fairyland, was he? Of course not. He wouldn’t fill out all those papers if he was dancing at a ball. His fairy blood should keep him from getting caught up in the magic, anyway.

“Mayor, if you don’t open this door, I’m coming in,” Max rumbled, echoing on my skin. He was so powerful and delicious. But I still wasn’t exactly talking to him. He’d probably lie about something incredibly relevant, like the fact that he’d slaughtered thousands of my people.

The door remained closed.

Max took a deep breath and then hunched over and picked the lock with his claws. I blinked at his broad back, bent in front of me. He was picking a lock instead of blowing the door down. How disappointing. I couldn’t help but trace the outline of his scapulae beneath his shirt. So many beautiful, irresistible muscles. Why was he so absolutely delicious? And why was I touching him? I pulled my hand back as if my fingers were burned.

The lock clicked and Max straightened, shooting me a heated look that melted my bones. No. Bad bones. No melting just because the pretty werewolf looks at you like you’re his moon.

“I’m calling someone,” the demolition guy said, backing away, gripping his clipboard in his calloused hands. “You can’t walk into the mayor’s house without permission.”

I shrugged and moved closer to Max. We didn’t need a coward who didn’t even pretend that he wasn’t bought.

We walked inside, slowly, the two wolves sniffing to the right and left. Max glanced at me and then shifted into his wolf, dark fur gleaming in the diffuse light. I grabbed onto the silky fur, rubbing my fingers and soaking in his feel. I loved his wolf. I missed sleeping cuddled up to him on a blue mat. Why did he have to complicate an already confusing situation with the lupin Sorcerer thing?

“It’s so dark,” Ruin whispered. “And what’s that smell? Blood?”

Max moved forward, pulling me with him. I tried not to cling as we crossed the hall and into the kitchen, but it wascreepy. Empty. No servants, no mayors. We continued into the hall beyond the kitchen until Max’s wolf stopped at a door and nudged it with his nose.

I turned the handle, opening it to reveal the descending stairs with the blooming scent of blood and pain. There was something really bad down there. What had the mayor been doing? Torturing? Slaughtering chickens and burning the feathers? There was also a touch of brimstone to the blood and carnage.

“Maybe we should get backup,” I whispered. “We could wait for the ogre and the angel to get here.”

The wolf started down the stairs. So much for backup. I glanced at Ruin and then followed him down, fingers still threaded in his coat. She wasn’t going to leave him, and I wasn’t going to leave either of them. At least we’d die together. Did I really want to die with Max? I didn’t want to die with anyone else. Even if he was Slaughter who’d really convinced me that he was a soft and sweet werewolf. I should have known that none of those existed.

The stairs creaked, and I flinched, but there was only a slight groan from the darkness below. I couldn’t see past the stair’s wall, but when we reached the bottom and turned into the main space, I froze. There, tied to a heavy chair, with shredded wings and serrated skin, was none other than the mayor of Singsong City. At his feet, a glowing red book was oozing something that made my own sparkly vomit look positively safe.

“Creepy,” I breathed.

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