A Labyrinth of Fangs and Thorns: A Dystopian Fantasy Romance (Fae Guardians Season of the Vampire Book 2) Read online

  Copyright © 2021 Lana Pecherczyk

  All rights reserved.

  A Labyrinth of Fangs and Thorns

  ASIN: B09DP7BJ1K

  ISBN: 9798755313063

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © Lana Pecherczyk 2021

  Cover design © Lana Pecherczyk 2021

  Structural Editor: Ann Harth

  www.lanapecherczyk.com

  CONTENTS

  Map

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  Secret Sealed Section

  Excerpt from A Symphony of Savage Hearts

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Need to talk to other Readers?

  Also by Lana Pecherczyk

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Zoom in as needed, or visit Lana’s website for a larger copy.

  Be brave.

  CHAPTER 1

  Haze dragged a sniveling satyr by the collar through the gray, snow-sodden streets of a local village. Under the light of the moon, they passed cobblestone houses with flickering manabee lanterns. A gust of arctic wind slapped him in the face. He ducked, braced himself and trudged onward, ignoring the less than stellar reception from Unseelie residents.

  A crow squawked, warning fae of Haze’s arrival. Doors slammed. Window shutters closed. Anyone daring to get in his way would face the wrath of the biggest Guardian in the Cadre of Twelve. With his height and muscle, dragging the satyr felt like dragging a child. If only he could put him in the corner with a timeout.

  Now, there’s an idea.

  “It was an accident,” the satyr whined, his cloven hooves making tracks in the old snow.

  Haze’s battle-scarred vampiric wings flared out in vexation. He glared at the satyr. Haze’s shadow, a heartbeat delayed, also looked down.

  “So it was an accident forbidden metal found its way to a cord around your neck?” The deep rumble of his voice rivaled thunder and rolled through the streets like a stone.

  Haze’s shadow peeked over his shoulder, curious. Anyone else would see a smokey silhouette the same shape and height as Haze, but Haze saw an extension of himself. A gift he’d received from the Well after being submerged in the ceremonial lake and judged, coming out worthy of the teardrop mark beneath his left eye. As a Guardian, he was also given a bigger personal reservoir to hold mana and could hold forbidden materials without cutting his connection to the Well.

  The satyr’s desperate eyes landed on Haze’s black reinforced leather armor, his intentions clear. Probably wondering if curved horns could pierce the thick hide.

  They could not.

  What could the satyr hope to achieve against a vampire three times his size? Haze could drink the fae dry, smother him in shadow, or crush his skull with a titanic fist.

  Maybe Haze should drink from him. That would shut him up. Or maybe he should accidentally let go of the floater—and watch him run—watch him get to that point at the edge of the street, where he believed he’d escaped justice from the Order of the Well. Then squash that hope like a milli-bug.

  “Um…” The satyr tried to push Haze away, but he barely made an impression. Haze was a mountain to his mole hill. “Come on… it was only a tiny piece of metal.”

  “Don’t care.”

  “But—”

  “Shut it.”

  “I only thought it looked cool!” He gave a nervous laugh. “Like a fashion piece. The females dig ancient things.”

  Haze’s eyes narrowed. “There’s only one reason fae keep something like this on their person. It’s to avoid the scrying eyes of Seers. Who are you hiding from?”

  Haze dipped into the tight pocket of his leather breeches and pulled out the tiny, rusted metal disc of contention. It had little bumps around the rim. Perhaps the ancient humans used it to cap a bottle. Corks were much easier, in Haze’s opinion. Humans were so odd. They found obscene ways to use metal and plastic when there had already been a simple solution in place. They even used to put plastic in clothing. Ridiculous.

  “You do realize,” he drawled, “that this ‘tiny piece of metal’ has blocked the magic of the Well. And the Well does not take kindly to being denied. Why would it gift you with mana if you blatantly break the only rule it’s ever set? If fae like you can’t see through their selfishness, then the Well will forsake the fae, and Elphyne will become as barren as the human wasteland. Is that what you want?”

  “But I’m lesser fae. I don’t even have mana.”

  “That’s what all you lessers think until it’s cut off. Something as small as this won’t cut you off in an obvious way, but it still happens.” Haze rubbed his chin. “Perhaps I need to educate you in terms you understand.”

  The satyr clamped his lips shut, his complexion paling. In the grand scheme of things, a tiny scrap of tin wasn’t a huge deal. But if Haze allowed this coward to break the rules, then others would follow. And the wasteland would grow.

  “You disgust me,” he growled, and then shoved the contraband in his pocket before continuing to drag the floater through the street. This time, the satyr stayed silent and limp, resigned to his fate.

  Being a Guardian was a shitty job, but someone had to do it.

  As Haze walked, mud spattered the abandoned wooden carts. Curtains twitched in windows as Unseelie residents stayed hidden, afraid of capturing the attention of a Guardian on the war path. Only children were brave, or naïve enough to play in the streets.

  A pebble hit Haze on the shoulder. Giggles, light footsteps, and fluttering wings chased him in the night shadows. Vampire pups. He could smell the fresh blood on their breaths. He ignored them and focused on getting to the town square fifty paces ahead. By now, gossip should have traveled to the town magistrate. Haze expected him to be waiting. If he wasn’t, there would be consequences.

  A sting at Haze’s temple made him whirl around. Another rock. He snarled at the tiny vampires hiding behind a stone column, their wings a dead giveaway. Haze’s physical body stayed rooted to the spot while his shadow detached and slithered over to the column. Through his shadow’s eyes, Haze saw the soot-covered children. Two males and a smaller female clutching a rag doll made
of tumbleweed and straw. Harmless.

  His shadow retreated, but then paused as a male pushed the female. She stumbled and dropped her doll. Tiny fangs gleamed as her bottom lip pushed out in a snarl-pout. Haze’s heart squeezed. With her long dark hair and chubby face, she was exactly the kind of child he’d imagined his own would have grown into… had she survived infancy.

  “Throw another one, Macy,” ordered the first male—a pup with stubby wings not fully grown. He might be a half-breed.

  “I don’t wanna,” she whined.

  “But it’s a coin-grubbing Guardian bastard. That’s what my da’ calls ‘em.”

  “Do it,” said the second male, his foot hovering over the doll. “Or I kill Thirsty.”

  Little shits. Haze’s eyes narrowed.

  He called his shadow back and stomped obviously toward the column, still dragging the squirming satyr. Wide eyes and youthful gasps of terror greeted him. When the boys tried to run, he pointed at them. Haze’s shadow melted into the darkness and popped up behind them, blocking their escape with a monstrous mimed roar. The boys screamed and covered their eyes, as though it would hide them from the shadow monster. The stench of their urine caused Haze to snort out a breath. Perhaps he’d been a bit overzealous with the scare tactic.

  He collected Thirsty, dusted it on his pants, and handed it to the girl. Big eyes blinked up at him. Trembling fists stayed at her sides.

  A flash of guilt hit Haze. He seemed to have that effect on females, whether young or old.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he said, but that deep gravel of his voice only made the girl blanch. “I promise.”

  “But yaw’a Guardian.” Her little tinkling voice melted his insides. “Monsters are scared of you.”

  “That’s right.” He smiled gently. “But you don’t have to be.”

  With a bashful glance from beneath long lashes, she nabbed the toy and then stomped on Haze’s foot before running away. Well-damn it. He bit his lip. The kid had strength. But he couldn’t be angry at her. She was Unseelie. This was their way.

  Don’t owe nobody, but everybody owes me.

  The satyr chuckled at Haze’s misfortune.

  Haze growled. He switched his hold to the satyr’s curved horns and resumed dragging. The weather decided to rub salt in his wounds by sending sleet, taking his mood to an all-time low. He tossed the offender beneath the swinging wooden cage at the center of town.

  “I swear to the Well if that magistrate is one more second—”

  “I’m here. I’m here.” A dark shadow rushed out from beneath the eaves of the council building.

  Tiny ice pellets bounced off Haze’s shaved head and shoulders. The magistrate, a fat satyr, cowered until it seemed his black embroidered robe swallowed him whole.

  “Third offender this week, Endor.” Haze showed the metal cap. “Perhaps the previous punishments weren’t harsh enough.”

  While Guardians were responsible for policing the use of metal and plastic in Elphyne, it wasn’t their only task. They also had to protect the integrity of the Well, which meant neutralizing threats from within and without Elphyne. Often they left the sentencing of petty offenders for local authorities. Clearly, the deterrent wasn’t working, and the fae were becoming complacent. Time for that to stop.

  “One week in the cage,” Haze decreed.

  Both Endor and the criminal gasped, eyes wide.

  “Holding metal isn’t on par with actually being cut off completely from the Well. One week will possibly age him. He might not survive.”

  Haze scoffed. “Of course he’ll survive. But he’ll suffer, won’t you, floater? And I’m sure the females will love a few wrinkles around the eyes. Maybe without access to your mana, you’ll finally understand what life without the Well will be like. What life living with contraband will give us.” To prove his point, Haze tossed the coin through his watching shadow. The smokey substance dissipated and avoided the coin like it was poison. Haze might be able to hold metal and use his mana, but his shadow couldn’t. Haze picked the coin up. “You see, small things can have big consequences. It’s time you learned those.”

  He tossed the satyr into the cage and bade the magistrate to lock it. Even lesser fae, who held no mana inside their bodies with which to manipulate, could feel the emptiness of being cut from the Well. It was as though all color drained from the world, all sound, all energy. And yet, it was life as usual. Just a dulled, fucked up, mana-weed hangover version of it.

  Haze assumed it was what being human felt like.

  The offender whimpered and begged like a child, yet eighty years of being a Guardian had made Haze deaf to the stupidity of fae like this. Someone had to protect the Well, and Haze had the best incarceration record, even among the Cadre of Twelve. He hoisted the cage into the air by a length of rope connected to a hangman’s frame twenty feet high. The satyr whimpered the moment the cage left the ground. It took two feet of air for him to moan and roll dramatically in discomfort. Five feet and he was squirming in agony and loss.

  Vampires and other winged fae needed a lot more height to lose their connection to the Well—a fact Haze had learned from tragedy, just as he knew that first hit of disconnection was the worst. There was a reason vampires didn’t fly too high.

  Haze tied off the length and dusted his hands.

  “If I may suggest,” Endor said, his hands clasped at the front. “Perhaps a week is a little excessive.”

  Haze bared his fangs. “Three crimes in one week is excessive.”

  A crowd had started to gather around the square. Vampires and crow shifters perched on roofs, some in bat and bird form, others in angel form. They were black silhouettes against a moonlit sky striped with falling snow. While Unseelie usually kept to themselves and disliked strangers in town, they loved a good display of punishment and suffering.

  Haze rolled his shoulders. Wet leather was beginning to chafe, as was his patience. He snapped his wings wide to rid them of snow and took pleasure as the crowd flinched in fear. Time was running out. If he didn’t take to the air soon, flying would become worrisome. He’d have to use a portal stone, and he’d rather not waste the expensive commodity.

  “I’ll be back in a week,” Haze said, his knees bending, ready for take off.

  The criminal groaned, “Father… help me.”

  Father?

  Endor’s face paled. “How much?”

  “What?”

  “How much coin will it take to make all this go away?”

  “Are you trying to bribe me?” Elven runes glowed blue as he withdrew Justice, his war hammer, from the belt at his hips. Power-enhancing tattoos riddled over Haze’s body flared, casting a prismatic glow beneath his leather battle armor. “There are rules for a reason, magistrate. Be very careful what you say next.”

  “Um. It’s only that. Um. I meant how much compensation for the crime? The Order has a coin or time-served policy, correct? We’re willing to pay for his crime.” He slid his gaze to his son in warning. “This time.”

  Haze rubbed the bone studs piercing his ear and considered the proposal. He was Cadre. He had zero time to waste for returning in a week.

  “I’m not sure, magistrate,” he pondered. “How much is the Well worth to you?”

  Haze could almost see Endor calculating, which was worth more: leaving his offspring suffering or paying Haze enough coin to satisfy him.

  “A black coin,” Endor offered, as though the words were wrenched from his soul.

  Haze allowed his disappointment to show. Black coin in the land of the Unseelie Queen was, indeed, the highest you could get, but it cost twice that amount to have a new portal stone made. Not many had the knowledge of such alchemy, and those that did closely guarded their secrets. The Order had a mana stone alchemist, but he was in high demand. Extracting manabeeze from fae had many moral caveats. Funding the Order of the Well was expensive. And every time one of these ingrates acted like contraband didn’t matter, they raised the cost.

  “Fi
ne.” He opened his palm. He needed to get back to the outpost, anyway. And the sleet was coming down. The temperature was dropping.

  Endor dropped a smooth obsidian coin into Haze’s palm. Haze checked to ensure it was sealed with High Queen Maebh’s emblem—a crown with thorns, roses and antlers. Then he pocketed it and took to the sky.

  CHAPTER 2

  Within the hour of leaving Endor and his criminal son, Haze was back at the Order outpost on a small island east of Aconite City and the Winter Court.

  Haze’s boots landed on the ground near the largest wood and stone building. A Guardian on a watchtower gave a genial nod. Despite being in Unseelie territory, the island belonged to the Order. Intruders were shot on sight.

  Haze shook off snow and made his way to the second outpost building, the smaller log cabin toward the back reserved for the Cadre of Twelve.

  Shade leaned casually against the front door frame, dark eyes tracking Haze as he walked up. As well as being one of the elite Guardians in the Twelve, Shade was also one of the six council members next in the chain of command beneath the Prime herself.

  Haze was stronger than Shade, in both mana capacity and bodily strength, but Shade’s wit, charisma, and seductive looks were his weapon. Haze preferred to crush first and ask questions later.