Midnight Court: An Urban Fantasy (Magick and Misfits Book 2) Read online

  Midnight Court

  An Urban Fantasy

  Ann Gimpel

  Contents

  Midnight Court

  Book Description: Midnight Court

  Books in the Magick and Misfits Series

  Author’s Note

  Prologue, Auril

  1. Chapter One, Cyn

  2. Chapter Two, Dariyah

  3. Chapter Three, Cyn

  4. Chapter Four, Dariyah

  5. Chapter Five, Cyn

  6. Chapter Six, Dariyah

  7. Chapter Seven, Cyn

  8. Chapter Eight, Dariyah

  9. Chapter Nine, Cyn

  10. Chapter Ten, Dariyah

  11. Chapter Eleven, Cyn

  12. Chapter Twelve, Dariyah

  13. Chapter Thirteen, Cyn

  14. Chapter Fourteen, Dariyah

  15. Chapter Fifteen, Cyn

  Book Description: Court of the Fallen

  Court of the Fallen, Chapter One, Titania

  About the Author

  Also by Ann Gimpel

  Midnight Court

  Magick and Misfits Series, Book Two

  An Urban Fantasy

  * * *

  By

  Ann Gimpel

  * * *

  Tumble off reality’s edge into a twisted world fueled by myth and magick

  Copyright Page

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © July 2020, Ann Gimpel

  Cover Art Copyright © July 2020, CoverInked Design

  Edited by: Kate Richards

  Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or people living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, e-mail, or web posting without written permission from the author.

  Book Description: Midnight Court

  Urban fantasy and slow burn romance wrapped into a serial that will keep you up reading long into the night.

  * * *

  Strange bedfellows rock worlds.

  My days as Faery’s reluctant regent have crashed and burned. Either I left the land to rot in a squalid soup of broken promises, or I destroyed her enemies one by one. No choice there. Not really. I’d known some of those “enemies” since childhood, which was centuries ago. They say familiarity breeds contempt. In my case it bred sorrow as I consigned Fae who’d been friends to eternal destruction and fed them to the land.

  Dariyah, the Witch-who-wasn’t-one, crossed my path for reasons I’m still figuring out. Her long-lost mother presided over one of Faery’s many dirty secrets, the Midnight Court. Some like to believe Fae blood is pure. It’s not. We and the Sidhe are joined at the hip, and the Midnight Court was once a living symbol of our bond.

  I’ll fight to maintain a magical world that’s open to all. If I’m quick, ruthless, I might beat Oberon at his own game. Sly bastard that he is, he still holds the link to Faery. If I can’t wrest it from him, the land—my land—will wither and fade.

  Books in the Magick and Misfits Series

  Court of Rogues, Book One

  Midnight Court, Book Two

  Court of the Fallen, Book Three

  Court of Destiny, Book Four

  Author’s Note

  Book covers play a big role in my creative process. I saw a set of covers featuring a badass Fae prince a while back and bid on them. Unfortunately, someone had a faster Internet connection than me, so I didn’t end up with them. But everything comes out as it should because I found another cover I liked even better: the one on Court of Rogues, first of the Magick and Misfits books.

  I’ve always been fascinated with the Otherworld. The faeries’ ancestral home goes by many names. It’s called Annwn in Welsh mythology and Avalon in Arthurian legend. In Irish mythology it’s referred to as Tír na nÓg, Mag Mell, and Emain Ablach. Irish myths also feature a place called Tech Duinn, where the souls of the dead gather.

  But I digress. My vision is a world where mortal and faery collide.

  You, my readers, will let me know how well I managed it.

  Prologue, Auril

  Auril clung to patterns, to sameness. She had little choice; consistency made the impossible bearable. For the first couple of centuries, she’d kept track of time passing, but it was depressing. So many days, weeks, years had dripped past, time no longer mattered. This wasn’t like prison because it never ended. And it sure as hell wasn’t anything like the Dreaming, a retreat anticipating your every whim. No Dreaming for her. Not ever. She’d always viewed herself as a loner, self-contained. Until she was faced with endless isolation. Then she realized she’d been deluding herself all along.

  Once she’d been the Queen of Air and Darkness. But a queen requires subjects, and they were no more. She’d moved on, leaving the shell of queendom behind, the court she’d presided over erased by absence and the passage of centuries.

  Too late to do anything about it. It had been too late for an exceedingly long while. Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d had options. Not really. By the time she’d stumbled onto this world hidden from all others, the dice were tossed. No going back. She had a toddler to raise. Young as Dariyah was, power shimmered around her like a veil, spilling from her hair, her eyes, her fingertips in an endless stream of possibilities.

  The child was beauty incarnate, with a sweet and inquisitive soul. Bright, curious, inspired, she more than made up for everything Auril had left behind. She’d seen some of the future unfold in her glass. More in various pools. Regardless, she’d viewed enough to understand her child was a critical element, an instrument meant to shape the future.

  Her sister, Titania, wasn’t one to put much stock in prophecies. She’d talked until no more words came, urging Auril to look past the life that had taken root in her womb. Many magic-wielders had walked in her footsteps, had taken measures to deal with mixed-breed offspring. Those had been Titania’s words: deal with it. Innocuous enough, except in this instance dealing meant death. Auril couldn’t have done that any more than she could have cut off an arm or a leg. The child was destined to be. Its call from the beyond—an amorphous spot where souls resided—was so strong, it had swept her up in its urgency.

  And so she’d fled from both Fae and Sidhe, from her duties to the Midnight Court, knowing there’d be fallout. And there had been. Her energy was a lynchpin keeping Faery whole. Between her and her sister, they’d balanced the dark and light sides of magic, feeding Faery and keeping her hale and hearty.

  She’d asked questions a million different ways, working to tease out if her worst fears for Faery had come to pass. No answers had been forthcoming until a few days ago when a scrying attempt blew up in her face, showering her with water and leaving her with a deeply uncomfortable premonition the world she’d abandoned was finally unraveling at the seams.

  Auril wrapped her arms around her bent knees and slumped against the rocky wall behind her. Should she return? After all this time, no one would remember the whispered rumors about a forbidden pregnancy. Eh, the ancient librarian, Ysir, might, but he’d been well on his way to madness long before she left.

  Obscuring the relationship between Fae and Sidhe was another dirty little secret she’d been part of. The two lines sprang from common roots, and their power blended perfectly, creating awe-inspiring magic. Remembering its perfection still stole her breath. The multihued strands of talent had filled her with joy as they knitted into various spells. The same blended power terrified Oberon, perhaps because it existed outside the realm of his control. Regardless of his motives, he’d done everything in his considerable power to squelch each juncture where Fae and Sidhe came together.

  Her court, the Midnight Court, had been a centerpiece for combined magic. After Oberon ordered it disbanded, she and Titania had moved it…elsewhere. For a long while, she’d been certain Oberon would find out and put a stop to it, but he had a lazy streak a mile wide, and he’d never dug too deep. Nighttime festivals where everyone danced beneath twinkling stars flourished, until the land switched to perpetual daylight.

  She’d been certain it was Oberon’s backhanded way of punishing them, but Titania assured her that wasn’t it at all. They’d taken care to erase revelers’ memories of those enchanted gatherings, so a snitch in the crowd couldn’t have been the problem. Hell, they’d even silenced the nightingales. She hugged her arms tighter around her legs and smiled as pleasant recollections of warm, lazy nights buffeted her. Rather like a cross between Beltane and Lughnasadh, there’d been plenty of laughter and sex and trading of all sorts.

  Joy was a powerful motivator, a heady inspiration. How long could she live on memories? The question curled her lip into a sneer. Apparently, forever. Faery’s gates were no longer open to her, the Midnight Court long shuttered.

  A breathy sigh rocked her, followed by another. Feeling sorry for herself wasn’t her style. She’d get over this rough patch. Soon. Nothing had changed except she’d allowed herself to long for the impossible.

  Everything that happened in this remote outpost occurred—or didn’t—because of things she did. Exercising that level of control should have been satisfying, but it wasn’t. Letting her daughter go—after
endless arguments where she’d threatened to leave regardless—was one of the hardest things Auril had ever done. It meant she’d be alone forever, but what kind of life had she condemned Dariyah to? She squeezed her eyes shut tight. She’d done the best she could. Ensured the child lived and flourished, so the power within her could find its potential.

  More drill sergeant than Mother, she’d trained the girl’s magic. Taught her to harness her raw ability to protect herself. And she’d hidden her true name. Names have incalculable power. So long as Dariyah didn’t know hers, no one could wrest if from her and use it against her. Auril’s guts twisted into a physical ache. She’d followed her daughter, scrying her location and some of her activities over the eons they’d been separated. Each glimpse was a two-edged sword, mixing relief with a pervasive sorrow. She’d never lay eyes on her daughter again. She should have come to terms with that reality long since.

  Should have.

  Dariyah was alive. Knowing she’d survived should have been enough, but it wasn’t. Many a night Auril tossed and turned. Sleep was elusive because she longed to wrap her arms around her daughter and feel the beat of her heart. Seeing her in visions, in imagery that ebbed and flowed, wasn’t the same. Not even close.

  Pushing upright from the spot she’d been crouched near her favorite scrying pool, she strode toward a cave. She visited it every afternoon at just this time. It was one of the patterns she’d maintained no matter what else was going on. Not that anything ever happened to disturb her routine. Sometimes, she wished something would, and then she offered up prayers to the goddess and said she hadn’t meant it.

  Monotony and boredom were preferable to unknown elements infiltrating her tiny corner of the universe.

  Light flickered and flashed off the walls of a rounded cave studded with quartz formations. The lights came from the core of this world and bounced off the surface of a large, subterranean lake. Unlike Faery, this world wasn’t inclined to talk. Strange, since she and it were the only sentient entities here. Auril had moved past lonely a few centuries ago, but the land endured. Silent, stoic, and ostensibly without needs of its own.

  She’d visited the cave so often, she’d worn a path in the rocky dirt. Following it, she walked to the spot she always sat. Energy converged just there and made her future-seeing easier. Not that she had to conserve power. Nothing to use it for here, but she was cautious by nature. Just because no one had breached the borders of her lair didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.

  At least she was past the worst of her spate of self-pity. She reminded herself nothing had altered except her focus. Looking backward wasn’t productive. All it did was make her sad. She shook herself from head to toe before settling on her haunches on damp sand a handspan from the murky water. By all the gods and goddesses, she was still a queen, and she damned well needed to act like one. Her title had been conferred by Danu herself in a joint ceremony with Titania.

  It had been very hush-hush, and Oberon hadn’t been invited. The old geezer had been livid when he broke through Danu’s barrier shielding the ritual from plain view. And even more outraged when the goddess sent him packing. The memory still brought a smile.

  Auril twisted her mouth into a grimace. How Titania had continued to stand by her consort after all his shenanigans was tough to comprehend, but it was a sore topic. She and her sister never discussed him, for obvious reasons. If she’d been the one shackled to Oberon, she’d have cut off his dick and muffled his smart mouth with spells long ago.

  The thought turned her grimace into a vicious grin. If she ever walked beneath Faery’s skies again, the first thing she’d do would be to hang Oberon in effigy in the Midnight Court. Voodoo borrowed a page from her court, and she’d make the noose feel so authentic, the king of Faery would go running for his spell book in search of an antidote.

  Sucking air to the very bottom of her lungs, she blew it out and then repeated the action a few times to center herself. A low hum began at the base of her spine and flowed upward, telling her the day’s scrying session was well in hand. She preferred the outdoor pond she’d been settled next to, but power resided within the cave, and it fueled her efforts. With her arms extended in front of her and power arcing from her fingertips, she shut her earth eyes and switched to her psychic view.

  The surface of the lake developed waves that swished back and forth before parting to form something that reminded her of a stage. At first it remained empty, its polished boards glistening gold in the odd light from the cave. Figures ebbed and flowed, not clear enough to make out beyond there being three of them. Auril waited. She’d been here before. The vision would speak to her in its own time.

  Keep breathing, she instructed, certain of her magic, of her innate ability. Out of all her skills, her seer ability had never failed. The edges of the vision started curling in on themselves. Her eyes widened as shock rattled her equanimity. She sprang to her feet, hands still outstretched, and sent a jolt of enchantment dead center into the fading tableau.

  “Reveal,” she shouted. “I command you.”

  The vision should have shaped right up. It didn’t, but at least it stopped collapsing. “That’s right,” Auril crooned. “Show me your truth.”

  Naught about today was panning out as she’d expected. Why should this be any different? She’d anticipated a gradual unfolding of a series of images for her to decrypt. The messages that came to her this way were never clear-cut.

  Nothing slow and steady here, though. One minute, the perimeter circling the stage was about to implode, the next Titania, Dariyah, and a man who looked familiar burst into view. Heads together, the three of them were talking among themselves, their features carved into anxious expressions.

  Titania flinched, and then straightened and turned. If she’d been in the cave, she’d have been staring dead into Auril’s eyes. “Sister”—she tossed her head in a gesture so familiar, it smote Auril—“we shall be there soon.”

  The tableau burst from the inside outward in a blaze of reds and violets, leaving her staring at motes of light. Auril rubbed her eyes, not trusting anything. How had Titania sensed her across worlds and time? What was Dariyah doing with her sister?

  What in the unholy fuck had happened since she’d last seen Dariyah in a vision? Her daughter had been in some kind of arcade playing cards with cat hairs clinging to her clothing and a human in thrall.

  About the only answer that rose to the surface was the male Fae’s identity. He was Cynwrigg ap Llyr, first in line for Faery’s throne. Did his appearance with Titania mean Oberon was gone?

  “A queen can dream,” she muttered, breaking the silence stretching through the cavern. More truths marched across her mind. Dariyah must have told Titania where to find her. It was the only way her sister could have discovered this out-of-the-way realm.

  Titania had said “we.” Presumably, it meant all of them would arrive soon. The implication punched her in the guts. Her heart beat like a trip hammer; excitement raced through her. Dariyah would actually be here next to her, in her arms where she could pat her, touch her. Stroke hair out of her face and make all the maternal noises she’d avoided for fear of spoiling the child.

  She’s not a child anymore. Her implacable inner voice brought her up short. Better to love and accept the woman she’s grown into.

  Her mouth bent into a wry grin. Grand advice. Who knew how it would play out? Dariyah’s magic existed in a class of its own. What had she done with her talents? Had the time come for her to stroll into Faery and take her rightful place amongst its leaders? Auril hadn’t disclosed that part of her future-seeing to her daughter. She’d told her to steer clear of Faery because her mixed blood could spell her death—until she came into her own and was strong enough to claim her birthright.