Of Rogues and Monsters: Book 2

By Mary Ann Hinrichs

“Real monsters don’t live inside books. They live inside us, patiently waiting for the moment we decide to let them out.”
- Ro McBay

The Book of Fae is not a fairytale, but a survival manual written for humans. Written for those who have the ability to see through faery glamour, for humans who can see fae-kind.
Humans like Ro McBay.
At eighteen, all Ro wants is to forget.
To forget Faery. To forget Cian, the fae warrior who died screaming her name. To forget she saved both faery and humankind from an army of vengeful immortals. To forget she breathed life into the Queen of Faery. To forget her father is a fae prince. To forget his blood runs through her veins.
And forgetting means returning to the mortal realm, to her nagging mom, to her crazy, best friend, to her boring, human life.
Unfortunately, forgetting comes with a price - a promise to Eriu, the Queen of Faery, the promise Ro will return to the immortal realm by the Winter Solstice.
It’s a lie, of course. For if Ro has learned anything from the fae, it’s how to skirt the truth. And the truth is, Ro has no intention of ever returning to the ruthless kingdom.
But lying to the Queen of Faery is dangerous business.
No one deceives Eriu and survives, especially a half-blood. And if Ro McBay believes she can lie to the most powerful immortal in the realm, the girl will learn the importance of truth.
Truth is the half-blood can’t hide from Eriu, not when the fae queen has plans for humankind, plans which require Ro McBay’s blood. Plans which will teach Ro a cruel truth.
Real monsters aren’t born, they are made.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669836896

Book preview

Copyright © 2022 by Mary Ann Hinrichs.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 07/18/2022

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

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CONTENTS

Part 1: Denial

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Part 2: Anger

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Part 3: Resistance

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Part 4: Resilience

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Glossary Of Terms

Acknowledgments

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For my parents…

Liz, Bob, Yolanda, Betty, and Bill -

Your love gave me wings to reach for myself.

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Illustration by: Shaun Donovan

The Legend Continues…

From mankind’s earliest renderings, stories of beings from Other Worlds were carved into walls, etched onto stone, and inked into manuscripts. Legends told of powerful immortals who walked amongst their mortal siblings, bringing joy and beauty; death and darkness.

Ancient lore is all that is left of these races, tales of the horrors unspoken lest they be true; of bitter truths and transcendent beauty; of an unquenching lust to harness the soul, to bear its light and devour its misery.

To where did these creatures retreat?

Legends allude the immortals scattered into magical realms known only to but a few. Legends of palaces built of mist and moonbeams, hovering in dimensions a breath away from the mortal world with gates aligned to open only during earth’s most vulnerable seasons. Legends of kingdoms carved beneath the human landscape or submerged under the deepest seas. Legends of immortals returning to the heavens, to galaxies within galaxies, humankind a disappointing creation.

But the lore reveals these creatures left something of themselves behind, gifts and curses bound in four otherworldly relics hidden about the earth and guarded by magic.

These hallowed objects are known to all immortals as Lia Fail, The Goblet of Severance, OathMaker, and Starfall - each with the unique prowess to bestow, remake, control, or destroy.

PART I

DENIAL

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"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make

you something else is the greatest accomplishment."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

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Banishment of a lesser fae to the human realm

can be evoked by one of noble blood.

-The Canons of Faery

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Chapter 1

The Isle of Skye, Scotland

Quinci lowered herself over the edge of the jagged sea cliff, the icy wind cutting through her leathers.

Finding the cursed fae, Torin, had been an arduous task. The renegade knew how to survive, how to stay invisible, how to ward his earthly lair without fae magic. In addition to Torin’s own motley talents, the dark bastard had recruited one extremely vile sentry to protect the gates of his elusive bolthole.

Had it not been for the stench of rot and death that trails the Undead like a prowling wolf, the vampire would even now be feasting upon her jugular. Instead, she had staked a blade through his cold-blooded heart, leaving a pile of ash in remembrance.

With her hands cinched around a thick tumble of rope, Quinci slid down into the cave’s black mouth. Boots softly landing on the damp stone, she let the cable slip free and peered into the dark void. Instinctively, the elf’s hand went to the weapon strapped to her upper thigh. Although the sword at her back added to her lethal prowess, her true skills were in close combat, looking her enemy in the eye when the blade met its mark.

Stepping into the cavern’s vast bleakness, Quinci allowed her gifts to lead her to the quarry. His scent swirled thickly in the air. Even amidst the musty odor of stagnant pools and damp earth, the essence of chicory and sage and savagery floated heavily between the jagged walls.

Since All Hallow’s Eve, since the parting of The Veil, since the battle between immortals, since the half-blood Roisin McBay’s surprising little show of power, Quinci had sought to learn all she could about Torin, the clever assassin who had brought an army of the realm’s most vile creatures under his command.

And after witnessing Torin thrust a sword into his own brother’s heart, Quinci had vowed she would find the rogue.

Shadows of flickering light greeted her steps.

Quinci pressed herself into the wall, the sharp edges scraping leather and biting skin. She peered into an open chamber, eyes scanning the meagerly lit room. Crystals covered the walls and ceiling, winking like stars against a dark universe. In one corner, furs, black as a moonless sky, covered a large bed, while paler skins were thrown over seats chiseled from limestone and granite. At the room’s center, a hearth of shells and broken stones flared gold and green with firelight.

Her gaze shifted to a ledge undercut by limestone where an open bottle of amber liquid and two leather-bound books sat one atop the other - Inferno by Dante and Machiavelli’s, The Prince. Her heart trembled. The assassin was every inch as deviant and blackhearted as she had imagined.

Do you find it to your liking? a deep voice rumbled from behind.

The elf’s hand went to the blade strapped to her thigh, but a stronger, swifter hand caught the movement, crushing her fingers within its own. You may have been able to slay my blood-thirsty minion, but it will not be so easy with me, my sweet.

Swinging her around, Torin ran a hungry gaze over her face. On his lips rose a grin, wide and wicked, making his obsidian eyes slant with menace. It’s been ages since I’ve held a she-elf in my arms. The crystal of your eyes tells me you are a relation to an enemy of mine - Finbar of the White Elves.

He dropped his head to her neck, lips brushing the delicate skin, and sniffed. Quinci’s chest rose in one great heave. Oak leaves and white lilies, he hissed against her ear. How tempting.

Abruptly, he stepped away from her warmth, tossing the elf on to the cut stones, soft fur brushing her bare arms, granite slamming into her back, stealing her breath. Torin crossed his arms and silently studied the female. Like a dragon, fiery intent laced his gaze.

Flamelight flickered against his black leathers, caressing the corded muscle that lay beneath all that wicked armor. The mark below his left eye was vile. A spell inked into his skin by something too cruel to be of this world or any realm that harbored even a fraction of light. She would use the mark against him, use it for her own gain.

He took a single step, towering over the girl. Finbar can be an arrogant elf, but not so much as to send the fairer of his race to find me and certainly not one of his own.

His eyes took in every detail. From her booted feet to her braided white hair, to the vines inking the base of her neck like a string of pearls, proclaiming the pretty little imp as not only elven gentry, but a warrior as well, Torin knew his day was fucked. If the she-elf had found him, it meant less intriguing enemies would follow. When his perusal settled on her mouth, and the daring imp pulled in that lush lower lip with her teeth, the elf’s fate was sealed. She didn’t know it yet, but the mettlesome creature was his, a skittish colt not yet used to her master’s scent.

I’ve no mind to send you back to your kind as pure as you came, but if you continue to tempt me, imp, I’ll take you right here on these stones and brand you until you are bruised and begging for more.

Quinci squirmed against the supple furs, suddenly afraid of her own convictions.

Warm fingers curled cruelly over her bicep and with a firm tug, Torin pulled her to him. Why are you here, elf? he growled.

She inhaled his scent once again and swallowed. I know how to get what you want.

Torin’s mouth twitched as his grip tightened. Tell me, imp, what is it I want?

Staring back into those bottomless pools, she felt herself drowning in his wrath. Freedom, she answered. Freedom from your bonds…. Quinci raised her free hand and traced the mark Asp the Witch had spelled into Torin’s skin.

Throwing back his head, the assassin’s laughter echoed harshly off the cavern walls. Returning his heady glare back on her, he bellowed, How do you plan to grant such a boon?

Quinci swallowed quickly. The Prince

His face went taut with rigid lines. Rinn?

She nodded. Freedom, the elf glanced around the small chamber. It is what you want, isn’t it, Torin?

At the sound of his name slipping off her lips, the faery’s eyes narrowed. And what, little imp, is it that you want in return?

The same as you, she whispered. Freedom.

Torin lowered his head and took the elf’s mouth with brutal force. When he lifted his lips from hers, the faery smiled. Freedom, imp, is anything but free. Before Quinci could answer, his lips were against hers once more.

The time for negotiating was over.

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Breaking an oath is an act of treason.

-The Canons of Faery

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Chapter 2

Caspian, Northern California

Ro had been home for a little over a week and nothing, absolutely nothing had changed.

Her mother still roared out complaints, her best friend still salivated over Kai Lamar, her ex was still an asshole, and Merlin, her trouble-making cat, still roamed through the neighbor’s garden, digging up herbs.

God, it was good to be home, good to be back in the mortal realm. The Realm of Faery might be magical and breathtaking, but it had no heart, no warmth. All it held for Ro were memories of what would never be.

It was hard to believe Ro had been gone for a week.

Not that anyone had noticed, thanks to magic, thanks to Morighn O’Leary, Ro’s sorceress neighbor. The old woman had woven a glamouring spell over herself, making her wrinkled body appear as the much younger Ro McBay. O’Leary had not only looked like Ro, but she had pretended to be Ro. The sorceress had slept in Ro’s bed, had gone to Ro’s school, had ridden Ro’s horse, had hung out with Ro’s best friend, and had even eaten dinner with Ro’s mom.

Glamour was a crazy kind of magic, one capable of hiding the truth from most human eyes. It still didn’t seem possible O’Leary had managed such a spell, but the old sorceress had done it and done it well. No one had even suspected Ro had been missing, had been held hostage by one immortal fae and rescued by another.

Even now, even after Ro had been marked by an immortal assassin, attacked by soul-sucking gargoyles, healed by an elf, chased by a slimey seafaring goliath, hunted by a demon, claimed by a stone, and loved by a warrior fae, Ro still had to remind herself magic and monsters were not simple fairy tales.

And the monsters.

Oh, the monsters.

Ro had learned real monsters didn’t live safely inside books. Nope. Real monsters manifested inside the living, feeding on greed and despair, power and jealousy, lust and hate, vengeance and deceit, waiting for the perfect moment to appear before their victims.

And real monsters often didn’t look like monsters at all.

Ro had been both friend and enemy to the monstrous fae, the immortals who walked unseen amongst humans either trying to protect or cause harm. She had watched an army of fae battle against immortals who wanted to enslave humankind, enslave and break humans until there was nothing left except a lingering darkness.

Even her own grandmother, the Queen of Faery, was too terrifying to forget. A freaking badass, Eriu had made Ro promise to return to Faery before the Winter Solstice.

Yeah, well Ro had promised, but to hell with that. She wasn’t going back to Faery, ever.

But if it hadn’t been for Faery, for the assassination attempt on Eriu’s life, Ro would have never met Cian, warrior fae and owner of her heart. Falling in love with Cian hadn’t been easy. No, Ro had learned that loving someone completely came with its own problems. They had both fallen, fallen until they were bruised and bleeding, fallen until they were wrapped in each other’s arms, broken, but finally alive.

And now Cian was dead.

Turning her palm up, the wound no longer red, but pale with healing, brought memories slamming into her heart, crushing it with a numbing blow.

There was no one, not a single soul she could talk to about Cian, about the warrior who had blindsided Ro and ruined her heart. Cian had been immortal, a commander of a royal legion of fae warriors, and he had died saving her, saving their realms. Died with his own brother’s sword plunged into his heart. Iron, the only substance which could truly take the immortal life of a fae.

Ro took a breath, in through her nose and out again, and swiped away the tears. Mira would be pulling up any second. She didn’t need her best friend asking her any questions. Because, then, Ro would have to lie to Mira, again.

A horn blasted.

Ro glanced at her phone. Mira was not only on time, but early.

Something definitely had changed during the week Ro had been off fighting their immortal enemies. Mira was never on time - for anything. Anything except Kai Lamar.

Another honk.

Jeez, Mira.

A quick glance in the mirror, another swipe at her eyes. It would have to do.

Ro grabbed a sweater off a hook near the front door, just in case. Her best friend hadn’t said exactly where they were going tonight, but at least Mira was making an effort. She just hoped Kai, ultimate dickhead of the senior class, wasn’t part of their evening plans.

Ro hurried out the front door, only to come up short.

The fire orange Shelby roaring at the curb was all wrong. Dickhead’s car should not be parked in front of her house. No, there should be a sunshine-yellow, VW Bug rumbling its guts out on the pavement. With twilight on the horizon, it was difficult to see who actually sat behind the wheel of Kai’s Mustang, but it looked like Mira.

Ro pulled open the door. What the hell? Kai actually let you drive his favorite beast? She asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

What can I say, Kai trusts me, Mira answered as she edged the car away from the curb.

Ro took a quick perusal of her friend and noticed the glow. It had been just over two years since Mira’s parents were killed in a head-on, two years of watching Mira trapped in a listless, mind-numbing, walking dead world.

During that time, Ro had been the supportive friend, the one whose shoulder was always free, the one whose face was used to scream into, the