Hunting for his Fairy Queen (A Monstrous Holiday #4)

Chapter 1

FINN

Eight-Finger Jack had a tell.

Not an obvious one. His eyes didn’t shift away from the cards clutched tightly in his four-fingered hands. Nor did they tremble as he wiped foamy ale from his lips. Jack didn't fidget with his saltwater-stained shirt or adjust the greasy black hair off his sunburned neck.

The deception lay in his confidence. Only a man who knew he was going to win bet the glittering towers of gold piled up before him. The sight made me smile and toss in my last remaining silvers.

"All in, Finn? Risky."

My lips compress at his words.

Normally, I wouldn't care about Eight-Finger Jack's cheating, but it was my gold he was currently in possession of. Gold, I would need to make my stay in Castaway's Landing comfortable.

It had taken eight weeks of rough seas to locate the Honey Pot and take all the treasure trapped inside her ruined vessel. The royal ship had run aground on a small sugar island that was absent on all maps except one depicting defunct trading routes.

I had the good fortune to find the ancient chart amongst a fruitful pillage last year.

The shimmering emeralds and sapphires wink at me from the other end of the worn velvet cover table. Eight-Finger Jack's eyes glow, shuffling his bent cards with calloused fingers.

I hadn’t survived shivers of sharks, pirate vessels with their impressive arsenals, and the alluring call of sirens to lose my treasures to a cheat.

The barmaid comes over in a swirl of teal skirts and secretive smiles. I nearly groan at the scent of her vanilla perfume. It rises above the fragrance of sweating men and briny air like a delicious cloud.

My crewmates have already absconded inside the countless brothels across the island while I deal with Jack's sticky fingers.

Once I double my winnings, I promise to visit fair Merigold at the Silk Pillow. Her breasts were much larger than the last time I saw them five years ago.

With my riches returned, I plan to take stock of all her changes.

My crew and I are going to spend two weeks here. Might as well spend it awash in pleasure and in comfortable lodging. Gods know I’m in need of the relaxation only Merigold and her ample bosom can provide.

A restlessness thrashes in my stomach, familiar and unwanted. I shove it down, as I have for years.

The crew needs their rest as well, but not too much. Lest they begin seeking the comfort of feather-filled beds over the solitary life of a sailor.

Once we had eaten and fucked our fill, we would set off on the unforgiving waters again. Tracking down whatever tip we procured while making landfall.

And so the cycle starts again. Searching and finding and claiming. A treasure hunter until the very end. I’m a servant to my adventures and my beast.

Sharp claws slice my stomach. The wooden chair creaks beneath my shifting weight.

The sun dwindles outside the cracked window, matching my fleeting patience. With the promise of silk mattresses and sweet-smelling women on the horizon, I grow bored with this reeking den of debauchery.

"Show 'em," I order.

Eight-Finger Jack's gold teeth glint as his cracked lips part. He lays out his cards with flourish.

"The King's Crown."

Knocking on the table, his words drip with pride. I look down at my cards, face remaining neutral.

"Are cards how you came to acquire that new jacket?" I ask, voice even.

Jack nods.

"I've been lucky."

Jack wipes grime from one dazzling silver button. The ruddy material is ill-fitting but not worn in the way the rest of his clothing is. It must've cost a hefty sum.

How many others has he conned at this table?

"Luck is such a fickle thing," I chuckle, letting my hand drift beneath the table. "You never know when it's going to run out."

Before Jack guesses my meaning, I crush my losing cards and wrap my hand around the blunt end of my dagger.

I brandish the weapon, the silver blade reflecting the setting sun.

A shout rings out, followed by the sound of swords unsheathing.

Patrons curse and stumble over toppled chairs to avoid the violence.

Fighting is forbidden in the gambling den. Unless there is proof of cheating.

The evidence of Eight-Finger Jack's deception tumbles to the velvet as I slit the breast of his coat. Dozens of high-value cards spill out, each a perfect replica of the ones used in this establishment. He must've spent months slipping them into his pocket when no one was looking.

Winning hand after winning hand litters the table. Countless sets of The King's Crown and The Knight's Blade, followed by the nearly impossible arrangement of The Queen's Heart.

I pick up the illustrious cards and fan them out on my side.

Jack makes a choking sound as he rears back from the table. I pin his sleeve with my blade, puncturing the ruined surface of the table.

"Cheating again, Jack? And I thought the eight fingers would be enough of a deterrent to keep you honest." My lips twitch. "Seven-Finger Jack doesn't suit the tongue."

"No! Please, I can—"

"Save it, Jack." The booming voice comes from a hulking man.

His bald head gleams like it's been polished with wax. Knives decorate his waist, and a pistol hangs from his hip. Crossing two meaty arms over his chest, he nods as two more guards with impressive builds grip Jack under the armpits.

"The boss will want another finger."

"I beg of you—please—"

His whines echo through the den as his boots squeak on the hardwood. Thrashing in their grips is futile. Jack will be lucky if the owner of the Golden Dolphin only takes a finger. A second cheating infraction usually costs a man his eye. For his sake, I hope it doesn’t come to that.

Eight-Finger, One-Eyed Jack is a nightmare to say.

"Pleasure playing with you as always," I call after him.

I pull my winnings into my chest. The glittering jewels and gold coins smile up at me. It was risky to bargain with my treasures, but risks always seem to have a way of working out for me. The more I leave to chance, the better I tend to shake out.

My riches will pay for an excellent bed and Merigold's undivided attention for the next two weeks. Hells, I can afford to have Ruby join us.

As I always say, two redheads are better than one.

Three redheads, fuck me, that would be—

A figure slides into Jack's empty chair. I don't bother looking up. Visions of red tresses and supple skin make my focus singular. The Silk Pillow waits for no man, and Merigold is highly sought after. Her affections for my charms aren't enough to secure her from another with just as ample a purse.

It's been a few months since I last removed a corset. It's a skill I'm uncommonly good at, but more practice never hurts.

"No more cards for me tonight, friend. A bed and a lovely woman—three if I'm fortunate—await me."

The gold and jewels rattle as I scoop them.

My blood heats as it always does. I was born to be a treasure hunter. The thrill of exploration is more addictive than any of the euphoric smoke that exists in the pleasure halls. I live for the rush it brings me.

While pleasures of the flesh may be calling to me now, the desire for companionship will fade.

The restlessness I’ve felt as a child will come roaring back. Spurring me to search for the one treasure that’s eluded me since I was a child.

The restless claws dig into my stomach in agreement.

A soft chuckle echoes from the other side of the table. The figure leans forward, his dark hood pulling back. Orange light bathes his withered face.

"Even if I have the one thing you've been searching for."

His voice and green eyes are as familiar as my own. The air stills in my lungs as I lurch to my feet. He does the same, mirroring me as we clap each other's hands.

"Gree," I breathe. "Fuck, you've gotten old."

He swats at me as I take in the deepening wrinkles around his eyes and the gray at his temples. It's been a year since our paths last crossed.

"The beauties of the Silk Pillow can attest to my virality."

"Cheeky bastard."

"Takes one to know one. Who do you think you learned your charm from?"

There's no point in arguing with him. My teasing nature was indeed cultivated by him.

Gree took me in as an orphan toddler, wandering between ships in a small port city. He taught me everything from being a sailor to how to properly bed a woman. I became a man thanks to him. He helped me find my crew, gave me an incurable thirst for more, and protected me from myself.

He is the closest thing to family I've ever had. I owe him my life a hundred times over. Merigold can wait a little longer. I have enough gold to sway her away from whatever man she's currently entertaining.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. "I thought you were sailing to the southern reefs."

"I was. Until I heard of your tales of finding the Honey Pot and learned you were making port here."

"Aw, Gree, did you miss me?"

The old man rolls his eyes. Reaching under his cloak, he produces a bag made of coarse tweed. Gree drops it onto the tabletop.

"I've come into possession of something quite valuable," he states.

I raise a brow.

"I'm listening."

He gestures towards the limp sack.

"Won it off a merchant in the Lowtides. Lost two bricks of gold and ten bags of silver for it."

My interest is beyond piqued. What small treasure could be worth such a hefty sum?

Reaching for the bag, I gently pull the top apart. I purse my lips at what I find.

Or lack thereof.

"Hate to be the one to tell you this, Gree, but it's empty."

A secretive smile stretches across his wind-chafed face. He produces a small deck of cards. They are made of sleek black paper and back-filled with gold. Their glimmering surfaces rival my coins for brilliancy.

"It's a peculiar treasure. One that only reveals itself once it's been won." Shuffling the cards deftly, Gree smirks. "I only saw it once I beat the merchant at his own game."

"Sounds like you were swindled. What could be in a bag of this size worth that much gold and silver?"

"Play me and find out."

Licking over my lips, apprehension stills my tongue. My hesitation stretches long enough for Gree's hands to pause his fluid movements. With a shrug, he reaches towards the sack.

"If you aren't interested—"

"I didn't say that." A cold sweat erupts on my forehead. "Is—is this what I think it is?"

Gree's eyes sparkle like emeralds. The truth in them burns me alive.

He nods knowingly, and my tongue feels too big for my mouth. My heart pounds against my ribs. The smell of sweat and salty air chokes me. I'm hot and cold, tight and stretched. The world around me tilts and my vision blurs.

All this time, it was Gree who finally found it. The old bastard will never let me hear the end of it.

My stomach flutters as I incline my head.

"What must I do?"

Gree restarts his shuffling. The smooth cards glide between his expert fingers. I'm mesmerized by their obsidian color and delicate gold filigree.

" It's simple, really." Gree's eyes rove over my stack of coins and polished gems. "That is the lot you'll play with, and the bag will be mine."

"Greedy bastard," I mumble. "A round of Court's Dominion then?"

Gree shakes his head.

"It is a simpler game. We each select a card from the deck." He sets the stack down with a gentle thud. "Whoever has the higher card can choose the bag or their opponent's lot. If you lose, the sack will remain empty, even if we switch, until it is won by another in a new game. "

"Seems fair enough."

I stare at the rough texture of the bag. An otherworldly force ripples from it. The anxiety in my gut deepens. It thrashes against my stomach as if trying to break free. I can't let it. I have to be brave, just like Gree taught me all those years ago.

I've endured it for far too long. With each passing year, the ability to suppress it grows weaker. It won't be long until I'm completely consumed by my curse.

The bag must contain the answers I seek. If not—

"Would you like to pull first?" Gree asks, wiggling his fingers towards the deck.

Licking my lips, I stare down at my plethora of riches. It would be simpler to take them and run. To live as I always have, avoiding this thing for another three decades.

But I know I can't.

Merigold will have to find another patron to help relieve her corset tonight. My hand will be my only companion for a while. That is, if this thing I'm determined to win doesn't kill me first.

With trembling fingers, I select the top card. Gree's eyes are serious as he selects his card. The heaviness of the moment descends in the den. Voices ebb away in a gentle wave.

One chance is all I have.

"No matter what happens, Finn, I've loved you like a son. As if you were my flesh and blood."

My chest feels tight. This is as much of a goodbye as either of us will allow. Whatever happens tonight, we may never see each other again. My eyes burn as I hold his gaze.

I return his look of affection. Gree doesn't need to hear the words. The old man knows I’d die for him, that I love him just the same. As if he were my father.

And he loves me enough to give me this chance even if it means parting forever.

Clearing my throat, I lean forward.

"On three?" I ask.

Gree nods.

"One," he counts.

"Two," I whisper, hand shaking violently.

"Three."