Forever (An Unfortunate Fairy Tale 5)

Who he had been and who he was now would no longer matter. Innocents were at stake. Too many had paid the price for Mina’s folly. Too many had been injured; too many had died. She could only see this concluding one way. It would end with death—hers or Teague’s.

He had said she might be more agreeable in the morning. Well, it was morning. Where the heck was he? Brody and Nan had forced her to go home last night to get some sleep. But that was a joke. She couldn’t.

She’d taken off the lavender dress and thrown it onto the bed, feeling the weight of the dagger hidden inside the pocket. She’d changed into jeans and boots, and layered a plaid top over a shirt. Grabbing mittens, hat, and scarf, she snuck back outside at first light and rode her bike all the way to the Recycling Center.

Seven hours later, her rear was numb, and her legs were stiff from sitting, Most of the damage had been contained and fires put out. She had watched and counted as each of the City Gas vehicles, the police cars, and the fire trucks had pulled away one by one.

Her stomach growled from hunger. She knew this was where he’d want to meet her. So he could gloat over his handiwork, his accomplishments. He wanted to see her cower, but she knew she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

Her skin prickled with the familiar sensation that she felt whenever he was near. Mina jumped up and turned around just as he stepped out from behind a large evergreen.

His dark, angry, blue eyes crinkled up in the corners with mirth, mirroring the smirk on his face. His perfectly styled dark hair accentuated his cheekbones. He wore a long patchwork jacket, made of different leathers and black textures, like a cape off of his shoulders. Both the cape and his tall, black boots gave him an animalistic ruler vibe. The only light thing about him was his stark white shirt.

“I think I prefer these clothes to your fancy dresses,” he said, his voice like velvet as he stepped closer to her.

“I think I prefer your other clothes. Are you auditioning for an episode of What Not to Wear?”

Teague frowned and shook his head. “Again with the insults that mean nothing to me.”

“How about this? You look like an animal.”

His handsome head fell back, and his eyes closed in laughter. “Now that is funny.”

He came up and reached out to touch her cheek, but she slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

His nostrils flared in anger, but he held back his biting remark. Instead, he turned away from her and placed one boot on a rock, gazing down over the smoking building in the valley. Here come the insults.

“Do you have it?” His voice had lost its teasing tone. He was asking for the dagger.

“Yes.”

“Then give it to me, Mina.” He cast a forlorn look over his shoulder at her.

“I didn’t bring it.”

She could see his jaw working as he clenched it. He straightened, cracking his neck as he faced her full on. “Did you not get my warning?” He pointed down below at the very spot of the burned river rock. “I’m done playing games.”

“Well, the game now has new rules. It’s an expanded edition.”

He raised one eyebrow. “You think to outplay me?”

“Did you bring my mirror?” she shot back. “I may exchange one for the other.” She wanted the mirror. With that mirror, he could always watch her. Always.

This time it was Teague who looked surprised. “May exchange?”

“How about: You bring me the dagger, and I’ll let your friends live.”

“Without my mirror, I won’t even think about giving you the dagger.”

He sighed and sat on the large rock, extending his legs in front of him. He crossed them at the ankles. “I think I’ll hold onto my mirror a little longer. I’ve learned that women can’t be trusted, and I like the idea that you know I’m watching you. It makes it harder for you to plot against me when I can watch your…” He stood up and slowly walked around her. “… every… single… move.” He leaned in on the last word and inhaled the scent of her hair.

“I hate you,” she seethed.

“Wrong.” He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I know how you feel about me.” The corner of his mouth crooked up. “Or at least a part of me. You were in love with me.”

He tapped his head. “I have his memories.”