The Best of Iron Faerie Publishing 2021

By Stacey Jaine McIntosh

Retold fairytales with new and unexpected twists, epic tales of gods and goddesses and flashes of fantasy all rolled into one spectacular collection compiling the best stories published by Iron Faerie in 2020!
Featuring compelling stories by over 20 authors.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Iron Faerie Publishing
• Release date: Sep 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9798223586616

Stacey Jaine McIntosh

Stacey Jaine McIntosh is the author of ten short stories. "Freya" and "Blood Sacrifice" were published late 2011 and "Fallen Angel" published in 2012. "Life or Death", "Exiles of Eden" and "Morrighan" published in 2013. "Red" and "The Summer Girl" were published in June 2015 and "The Hunter Million" and "Shadows of Annwn" are due to be published later in 2015. She lives in Perth, Western Australia with her husband and four young children.

Book preview

Celebration

ANDRA DILL

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Did you get the commitments you needed tonight, my love? Rhonwen brushed her silvery blonde hair, watching her husband shrug off his jacket.

Gwledig’s slender lips curved into a smug smile. Every single one uttered a binding agreement.

Holding her intent gaze, he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a smooth, lean-muscled chest. Upon hearing her appreciative sigh, his smile turned predatory. He stalked forward, closing the distance between them.

There’s a bit of paperwork for the human lawyers, but we have their oaths, he said.

And none can trace our involvement?

He threaded his fingers through her silken hair, tipping her head back. No. He kissed her swan-like throat. The scent of persimmons teased his nose.

Once more, we’re a step ahead of the Summer Court, she said, voice husky. We should celebrate.

What did you have in mind? Gwledig skimmed a finger across her collarbone.

Desire sparking in her eyes, she rose on her toes and kissed him.

With a feral growl, he pulled her flush against him and deepened the kiss. She tasted of champagne and ripe berries. Gwledig craved more. She wrapped her arms around him. The bite of her nails and heat of their kisses melted his control.

Long, dizzying moments later, he relaxed his hold.

You recall my latest creation? Rhonwen purred.

The iced statue. Yes.

The brownies stored him in the walk-in freezer. Since we can’t display him here, can we take him home? He’d look lovely in the north garden.

Anything for you, beloved.

Siren

BIANCA BREEN

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The song sounds like this: the flap of sails as they catch a sturdy wind; the smell of the salty sea air; the smooth wood of the wheel beneath his fingers.

The song sounds like the ocean, and the ocean sings the song.

Though the deck of the ship is solid beneath him, the bodies scurrying behind are blurred, muffled, insignificant compared to the rolling of the waves below him, the clarity of the song. He imagines the notes as a current of air, wrapping around his body and pulling him closer, closer –

Rough, warm hands grab his arms, he’s yanked back from the railing of the ship. With the tether between him and the ocean snapped, he comes to, blinking rapidly.

‘Captain Rymer,’ says the gruff voice of his first mate, George, behind him. ‘We must make haste. We’re approaching Skeleton Bay.’

No. They were already there.

Captain Rymer heard the song of the sirens before his crew did, felt its pull as if attached to an anchor thrown overboard to the depths below. But those cold dark depths, that watery grave, held none of the horrors it should.

For the song belongs to Andrina. His love. His heart.

But his head is clearing by the second. The crew. He has to keep them safe. Skeleton Bay is a smudge on the horizon, but the ocean surrounding them is quiet. No sea birds screech above; the men’s voices reduce to murmurs. Even the water lapping at the side of the ship is quiet, as if to discourage the movement of the lethal creatures it carried.

‘Captain,’ George calls from the other side of the deck, faced drained of colour, not looking away from what has captured his attention overboard. The captain crosses the deck and peers over the railing.

Streaks of red flow through the waves below.

Captain Rymer licks dry lips, the panic rising inside him mirrored by the panic of the crew: it rises from them like waves, a palpable thing in the air.

‘What do we do?’ George asks, voice brittle.

Rymer continues to stare. A face has appeared in the water. Not the bloated, rotting face of the dead, but a beautiful face; a familiar face.

Andrina swims alongside the boat, her pale skin ethereal beneath the surface of the water, rippling as the waves do. Rymer relaxes, a smile spreading over his face. He has never been able to resist her, not on any of his journeys. But her song is always cut short as the crew aim harpoons and pull Rymer away from the edge. As Andrina’s song curls around his ears like fingers, he knows. The crew will not stop him this time.

Rymer climbs onto the railing, the men too busy preparing the ship for a fast getaway to notice. When he drops, it is serene.

Andrina takes him in her arms, tail beating powerfully down, her lips open to a stream of bubbles, and her song.

She is the ocean.

Born to Wonder

C. MARRY HULTMAN

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Charlie Rains is a dirty orphan, the chorus of children's voices filled the playground.

The rotund Pete Sinclair shoved the unkempt Charlie to the ground with a chuckle.

You're ugly, orphan, he scoffed, and the others joined in the mirth.

Charlie sat in the dirt, blood trickling from his bulbous nose, silent.

Nobody wants you here, Pete continued. With your tore up clothes, fat snout and pointy ear. You look like a pig.

Charlie bit his lip to feel something other than scorn. He searched for an adult to assist him, but no one looked his way. Only a dark shape standing behind the chain-link face at the edge of the playground observed them. A hood obscured its face.

Peter pulled Charlie to his feet. If I punch you maybe you'll end up looking better, he smirked.

Charlie continued to eye the shape grabbing the fence with a gloved hand. As Peter prepared to send his fist in Charlie's face two points of white light glowed within the hood.

Something burned inside him and Charlie pushed Peter away with great force. The bully tumbled backwards into his friends.

Now you die orphan, Peter screamed and ran towards him.

Without a thought Charlie put out his hand. The bully ran into it and blue lightning crackled through his body.

The children screamed and fled the playground as the smoking heap of Peter's body collapsed at Charlie's feet.

The dark figure relaxed and nodded at the boy, standing alone, stunned.

Saving Solon

CLAIRE DAVON

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The man bobbed in the water; his body tossed by the waves.

Euleria cried out when she saw him. He was lying face up, his eyes sightless, his skin waterlogged.

No, no, no!

He did not yet have the pallor of the dead but his chest didn’t rise and fall. He must have fallen from the rocks above and was taken by the waves. However, it happened, Solon wasn’t breathing. He was dead.

Her tail smacked the surface of the water as she tugged him to the sand on the nearby shore. She had no experience with how to save a person from drowning. Sirens like her were at home in the water, and there was no need for lifesaving measures.

Maybe it was foolish to be taken with a human, but Euleria had noticed this man the moment he set foot on siren island. Humans were allowed to come to their sanctuary, but couldn’t stay. She didn’t know how he’d come to this bad end, but she couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t lose him, not like this. Not in the medium that was her life.

She needed to stay in her watery form to best draw on her power. Euleria’s blue and yellow tail sluiced off water and collected sand as she lay Solon down on the ground, but she didn’t notice. This was a secluded cove, and no other sirens, whether air or water women, were around at the moment. If she was going to save him, she would have to do it by herself.

Euleria only had one thing she could do.

She sang to him, drawing on the power of her voice to call to him. Perhaps it was not too late. She stroked his hair and traced the lines of his face. Euleria put all the passion of her soul into her song. It floated on the wind and soon birds and marine life were gathered to her spot. Still, she continued to sing. Birds and fish were not her goal. They were not unaffected by her siren song, but it was not the lure it would be to humans. She didn’t know if it would do any good, but for the passion that beat in her heart, she had to try.

Her song spun over the waves, filling the air with her melancholy. She had lost him and she didn’t know how to bring him back. She continued to sing, stroking his beloved face.

Solon sputtered, water streaming from his mouth. It splashed on his face and she batted at it, trying to get it away from him before he drowned a second time. She continued to sing, her tail waving gentler now, until he opened his eyes and looked at her. Her heart swelled. He was alive.

Hi, Solon said, and touched her cheek.

Humans could not resist a siren song but she did not want that to be the reason he came to her.

I’m glad you’re unhurt.

Then she kissed him.

She Would Be Conquest

CHRIS BANNOR

She wore a white suit trimmed in gold, earrings and necklace of diamonds.  Her jewelry sparkled but her white teeth were bared like fangs.  They believed they had the best of her, believed that no one, let alone a woman, could break their hold on the world.

She controlled all she needed now; every piece of land, every bit of stock, every pawn.

They had crawled, like cowards at her feet, begging for her mercy.  But her arrows were tipped in blackest blood.  She would be vengeance.  She would be conquest.  She would be as Cleopatra, glorious in her triumph. 

Chosen

DEBORAH DUBAS GROOM

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The wind howled and swept Brennan’s dark curls into his face. He looked back at the little red cottage that marked the edge of town, his family home. He felt a tremor of regret that he wouldn’t return. Eyes watering, he buttoned up the collar of his jacket. Determined, he scrambled down the rough path that took him to the shore. He eventually reached the shelter of the caves where they’d agreed to meet.

Soaked, he could feel a cold that went to his bones. Trying to wipe his face with his hands he wished he had a towel. He stomped his feet, shivering. He couldn’t wait. Was it really only this hot, sunny afternoon that she’d appeared? She’d swum up to him, circling and splashing, as he took a dip in the cove. He’d been so dazzled by her laugh, her smile, those shining green eyes and flowing black hair, that he’d almost drowned. He saw what she was, but he didn’t care. One touch of her lips and he was hers. She said she’d chosen him, and she’d claim him that night and bring him back to her world.

A flash of colour lit the shallow water that came partway into the cave. It was her. It was, why didn’t he know her name? He raced through the water to stand beside her, panting and mute. She lifted herself up beside him. He stared. Her face was the starkest of white and her eyes rounder than he remembered. The pupil were pinpoints and the irises were like opals. Her eyes were fringed in black, and her mouth was wider and paler than when they’d played in the waves. Her hair seemed to move, even when she didn’t.

Her gaze followed his as she watched him do his inventory. She blinked with a clear second set of eyelids, giving the appearance of a blank stare. She said nothing. The seconds ticked on.

I’m here like I said I’d be.

She stayed silent.

Her eyes swept over his coat, her head leaning to the side.

Oh right. I look different with these clothes.

Reluctantly, he shed his shirt and coat. Standing there bare chested, he felt the terror explode. He tried to hide his revulsion, seeing her flat boyish chest covered in an oily secretion. A primal fear lashed through him, ripping at his senses.

He jerked back from the creature.

Get away!

As he tried to escape, her claw-tipped, webbed hands locked onto his shoulders, just as two other creatures emerged from the water. He screamed as barbs from her palms pierced his skin. Her lips drew back, showing rows of stiletto-sharp teeth, mirrored by the others, who also closed in on him. Paralyzed, he prayed for a quick death as they ripped into his flesh. As he faded, she gave him one last glimpse of shining red lips and sparkling eyes and thoughts of love. He was her chosen, and would be part of her always.

Curiosity and the Cat

CALLUM PEARCE

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Wizard for hire, magical odd job man. Stanley was called out whenever somebody suspected that their life was being affected by magic. He would investigate, advise and help. He was followed around by his assistant Ziggy, a beautiful young man who hung off his every word.

It's that witch from the down the road, she's cursed me. the owner of the house screeched.

Stanley looked around at the symbols on the walls and nodded.

I didn't mean to kill her stupid cat. I was trying to see what was happening at the end of the street when I was driving home. That thing just shot out in front of me.

So, you were driving without paying attention? Stanley responded.

I was curious what was happening. What will it do to me?

Nothing you need to worry about. I will clear the room and you can forget this ever happened.

Why didn't you tell him what the curse was? Ziggy whispered.

It's an amateur job, Stanley replied writing notes in his notepad.

For a curse to work the victim needs to know the intent. Your brain does half of the work. If he doesn't know, it can't hurt him. He placed his notebook on a table and stepped closer to one of the symbols.

He spun around as the home-owner screamed. He was holding Stanley's notebook in his hand. His body twisted and cracked then shrunk until a dead cat lay where the man had once stood. Killed by his curiosity.

In the Wings

CONNOR SASSMANNSHAUSEN

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She never really took time off, not like the others. Sure, they all had moments, little blips of activity, some bigger than others (looking at you, War, with your World Wars, two of them. Overcompensating much?)

No, Conquest wandered the worlds, whispering to people, making them vie for power, for wealth, for land. Sometimes, it was little things, like stealing a cow. Sometimes it was assassinating the right person, like a president or a prince. The mortals would take things from there. And then her overachieving brother would get to have his moment. But it all started because of her.

Charmed

STACEY JAINE MCINTOSH

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Snow danced and pirouetted in the mid-morning gloom; a choreographed ballet conducted by the wind that only existed as long as the Winter Queen willed it.

A spectacular yet stark landscape, the Winter Territories were blinding. Treetops, light posts and rooftops loomed picturesque in their Victorian architectural nature, only to vanish, swallowed by the ice-white dust.

A wolf the colour of rust made a stark contrast against all the white. Another the colour of steel paced slowly before the gates of the Winter Palace before opening its jaws and letting out a mournful howl. The other wolf soon joined in. Together they created something almost beautiful yet poignantly bereft.

Despite the cold conditions outside, inside the Winter Palace was the epitome of warmth.

Minstrels played their instruments. Violins and flutes. While a thin waif like faerie sung an all too pretty tune in a language the Queen didn’t care to know.

As Ever lounged on the oversized milky alabaster four poster bed in her suite of rooms, she ruminated on how this would be her last Solstice Ball as Queen of the Winter Court. Or it would be if the fey council got their way and forced her to abdicate and give up her throne. But Ever knew just as the council did that