Tay's best friend, Cale always told him fairy-tales were dark, but they all have happy endings, right?
Willow’s Way
Dark Fairytale
Book 1
by Cheryl
Headford
Genre
LGBTQ YA Epic Fantasy
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Life had never been what you might call ordinary for Taylor Preston. His parents were Local Authority foster carers, specialising in difficult children. For as long as he could remember, Taylor had shared his home with other children of varying ages for varying periods of time. He’d put up with tearaway teens and tantrums and with never knowing quite what he’d find when he came home from school every day.
It hadn’t always been easy. In fact, it had never been easy. There’d been tears and tantrums of his own when he’d had to share his parents with children who needed their attention far more than he did. And every time he got used to one of them, maybe even got to like them, they were whisked away, never to be seen again.
Today, he’d come in, thrown his coat and bag on the floor in the hall, as always, and was heading up the stairs when his mother called from the kitchen.
“Tay, is that you?”
“No. I’m the worst burglar in the history of the world. I’ll just pop upstairs and rifle your drawers. Then I’ll be down for the TV.”
“Leave my drawers alone and come in here. We’ve got a new placement coming tonight, and I want to talk to you about him.”
Taylor groaned and dragged his feet to the kitchen. “Mam, you promised,” he whined. “You said you wouldn’t take any new ones until after the holidays. You promised we’d spend some time together this summer.”
“I know, hun. And I’m sorry, but this is an emergency and it was either us or a children’s home.”
“Then why not let them go into a home. They’re not bad places these days, and you promised me some time and attention. Besides, I haven’t finished my exams yet. I can do without the distraction.”
“You’ve got two exams left…maths and art. You don’t need much revision for either, and you know full well you wouldn’t have done any. By the weekend, you’ll be free of compulsory schooling forever.”
Taylor rolled his eyes. “As if that makes a difference. It’ll be even worse next year. The sixth form is no picnic, you know.”
“Oh, right. I’m not that old I don’t remember. The work is harder, but you have more free lessons, a brand new lounge to spend them in, and you lord it over the school like you’re something special, with all the little’uns looking up to you.”
“I’ve had enough of that here. Can’t stand the responsibility. Besides, I already lord it over the school. You know I’m the most popular guy there.”
“Right. The most modest, too.” His mum, Lily, sighed. “I’m sorry, Tay, I know it’s a bad time, and I know we promised to focus on the family over the summer, but I just couldn’t say no.”
Taylor sat down at the kitchen table and pulled one of the scattered papers towards him. “Okay, so what’s the story?” He glanced quickly at the photo attached to the paper he was holding. “What makes her so special you can’t resist her?”
“Him,” his mother corrected and Taylor, shocked, examined the photo more closely.
His initial cursory glance had shown him a slender, pale creature with an oval face and hair that reached his waist, which was why he’d assumed it was a girl. On closer inspection, he could see quite clearly that it wasn’t.
Yes, he was slender and pale, with white hair that cascaded over his shoulders and fell to his waist, but there was a strength in the delicate features that was definitely masculine, as were the defined abs visible through the plain t-shirt that was a few sizes too small. Taylor found himself fascinated by the boy, who seemed to be around the same age as he was. Although his features were delicate, he wasn’t pretty. There was too much strength and—arrogance maybe—there for that. In fact, he wasn’t conventionally good looking at all, but he was definitely striking.
“He doesn’t look very friendly. What’s he done?”
“He hasn’t done anything. Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said?”
Taylor’s face flushed and he ducked his head as he always did when caught out doing something that he felt guilty about. “Sorry. I think I’m in shock.”
His mother smiled. “He is very…um…interesting, isn’t he?”
“Interesting? That’s an understatement. Is there something wrong with the photograph or is he really that colour?”
“What colour?” Lily plucked the paper out of his hand and re-examined the photograph.
“Well…no colour at all.”
“It mentions it in the notes. He is very pale, isn’t he?”
“Pale? That’s one way to put it. He’s white. Everything’s white. His hair, his skin. I’ve never seen anyone like that before.”
“Not everything’s white. His eyes are blue.”
Tay’s Trials
Dark Fairytale
Book 2
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Tay poked listlessly at the fire using a stick he was suspicious might once have been an arm. Willow hadn’t wanted a fire, couldn’t see the point when they had a perfectly good one inside the tent. He hadn’t understood why Tay wanted to sit outside in the cold, poking at a fire that caused nearby trees to whisper uneasily, when they could have been reclining in comfort and leaving the rest of the world the hell alone. What Tay hadn’t told Willow was that he wanted to hold on to the illusion when he suspected it was the last time that he could really be him, Taylor Preston, the last time he could at least try to pretend things were normal and none of the craziness had ever happened.
They could have ended their journey last night, but Tay had dragged his feet in every way he could, delaying until he was able to beg to camp. Maybe Willow understood more than Tay thought, or maybe he had his own reasons for not wanting to be home just yet, because he didn’t put up much of an argument. And so, Tay had his reprieve, had a few more hours of being a normal sixteen-year-old, camping in a wood.
He’d tried so hard to keep up the charade in his own head, but it hadn’t been easy. In the end, it hadn’t been possible at all, and Tay had ended up miserable and wishing they’d pushed on after all. How could he pretend anymore? How could he shut his mind to the fact that his companions were a car driver with moss-green skin and yellow eyes, and a pure white ice-man who spoke to him inside his head? Then there was the crowd of fairies who liked to sit in his hair and giggle in his ear when they weren’t keeping up a running commentary of all the things they saw as they travelled.
Tay had a lot to thank the ethen for, and he became more determined than ever that one way or another, he was going to get the little fairies the recognition they deserved. No more would the ignorant refer to them as buzzers and treat them as little more than annoying insects. But that was for later. For now, as he watched the fire elementals dance and crawl along his stick, all he could think about was that in a few short hours, he’d be meeting his mother and sisters for the first time. He was so not ready.
It wasn’t as if he had any experience to draw from, any pointers or advice. It was hardly a subject talked about at school, contained in any textbook, taught to children by parents, or generally cropped up in TV sitcoms and dramas—well, only fantasy which he’d never been particularly keen on. There was nothing in his background to prepare him for this, and he hadn’t exactly been eased into it. No, in a very short time, he’d gone from being a perfectly ordinary, sixteen-year-old schoolboy, with loving, caring parents, to some lost fairy prince on the run from demons, about to meet his real family for the first time. He’d left everything behind at the drop of a hat—his life, his parents, his friends, and now, he’d left Cale behind to.
Thinking about his best friend brought a treacherous prickle to his eyes. At least he knew Cale would be okay. The demon had been defeated, and Cale was in safe hands, learning how to control his newfound demon powers. He seemed to be enjoying it. For Tay, it wasn’t so easy. Saying goodbye to one family was bad enough, but meeting a brand new one? To fall into a role he’d never been trained for? To be held up in the spotlight as…whatever—a hero, a prince, a rival, a threat? Oh God, what was he going to do? How the hell was he going to learn to survive in this place, let alone rule it?
Swallowing hard, Tay battered down the fear that threatened to overwhelm him whenever he thought about what it meant to be a prince. One thing at a time. One step after another. There’d be time to think of that later, after he’d met his…mother.
Godric’s Gift
Dark Fairytale
Book 3
Tay had thought that fighting demons was the hardest thing
he’d have to do, but what came after was so much harder.
No one thought Tay was ready to face his possessed brother
and the demon army at his back, and that included Tay himself. Gray, however,
thought different and, as usual, Gray got his way. But if Tay thought the
demons were the hardest thing he’d have to face, he would soon find himself
dead wrong.
From determining ownership of the land formerly occupied by
the demons to a world that had been without a High King for so long they
weren’t sure they needed one, every day brought new problems, and then there
was the magic that was not so slowly leaking out of the world. Tay’s life got
more complicated every day.
When Gray stepped up with the answers, it only made things a whole lot worse.
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“What exactly does Gray want?” Talen demanded. “You’re turning into him. Isn’t he happy with that?”
There they were again, back around the cycle to the very beginning. Talen complaining about having to stay and dumping all his negativity on Tay.
“Who knows what Gray wants? Why don’t you ask him instead of having a go at me?”
Tay squinted at the fireplace and nudged some elementals onto the logs. The fire roared, and he went to stand in front of it. As plush as the palace was, it had no central heating, and the weather had taken a definite turn for the worse. Their breath had been frosting out on the practice grounds, and it wasn’t possible to do hand magic with gloves on, so Tay’s fingers had been blue, except when he’d channelled heat into them. He wasn’t yet in a place where he could maintain that while concentrating on something else, so most of the time, he was freezing. Today, Gray told him that dual concentration was one of the most important things he needed to learn in order for him to maintain a protective shield while fighting. That made sense, but it was easier said than done.
Tay closed his eyes and focussed on creating a protective shell around himself. When he was satisfied it was firmly in place, he reached out and picked up a globe fruit. Then he threw it at himself. It hit him on the forehead with such force that it almost overbalanced him back into the fire. Okay, he wouldn’t have burned, but the elementals wouldn’t have been too happy.
“Ouch.” He rubbed his forehead. It hurt like a bitch.
“What the hell did you do that for?” Cale was almost helpless with laughter. “I don’t remember Gray teaching us self-attack techniques.”
“Shut up.” In the past, Tay’s anger would’ve spiked, and he would’ve probably hit out at Cale, but this time, his words were mild as he was able to see the humour in the situation. “You know I was trying to hold a shield.”
“And failing, apparently.”
“Hm…I thought there was someone else there today who was struggling with the same thing. It can’t have been you, of course, because you can do everything.”
Cale glanced at him for a moment, then laughed. “It’s freaking hard. I’ve had practice, though, because I’ve had to maintain the illusion on my eyes, although a simple illusion is like putting on sunglasses. You put them on, then ignore them, and they stay put until you take them off. It’s hard to keep it up for a long time or in a place where there are people who can and will see through it.” He thought for a moment. “Although, that’s probably because I’m hyper-aware of it because I’m so worried about being marked as a demon and attacked.”
“I think just about everyone knows what you are by now,” Talen said. “No one’s going to attack you.”
“So says one of the many people who tried to kill me the first time you saw me.”
“That was different. I didn’t know you back then, and you were still being controlled by the demon.”
Cale pursed his lips. “Fair point.”
“Where’s Gray,” Alder asked. “I haven’t seen him for days.”
“Well, he’s been down in the training grounds all day, obviously.”
“Yes, but after that. He usually at least comes to dinner.”
“I figure it’s because he’s fed up with Talen’s whining.”
Talen glared at Tay, who grinned.
“Well, he is High King of the fae, and he’d been gone a long time, so I suppose he has a few things to take care of.”
“Smartarse,” Tay said, and Cale grinned.
“Seriously, he hasn’t been around for basically ever. He’s probably forgotten a lot, and he needs to get used to everything. Not to mention, there are probably tons of people who want a piece of him. He doesn’t know whether everyone is going to accept him yet.”
“What’s he going to do if they don’t?”
Tay shrugged, drawing a globe fruit toward him, more slowly. “You know Gray,” he said as he bit into the sweet, fleshy fruit. “He has an answer to everything and the power to back it up.”
“Do you think you’ll ever have that much power?”
Tay thought about it. “At the moment, I want to say there’s not a cat’s chance in hell, but Gray seems to think so, and if he’s right about everything, he has to be right about that, too.”
“God help us all.”
Tay threw the fruit at Cale, who plucked it out of the air. “Thank you. You can have the other one before it spoils.”
Tay grunted and summoned his attacker, which was just as sweet and fragrant.
“So, how long do you think we’ll be here?”
“Oh, shut up, Talen, you’re like a broken record.”
“Would not a broken record fail to play at all?”
“We have different records.” Tay grinned and dropped the fruit pit on top of Talen’s head. He was not impressed.
Cheryl was born into a poor mining family in the South Wales
Valleys. Until she was 16, the toilet was at the bottom of the garden and the
bath hung on the wall. Her refrigerator was a stone slab in the pantry and
there was a black lead fireplace in the kitchen. They look lovely in a museum
but aren’t so much fun to clean.
Cheryl has always been a storyteller. As a child, she’d make
up stories for her nieces, nephews, and cousin and they’d explore the imaginary
worlds she created, in play.
Later in life, Cheryl became the storyteller for a re
enactment group who travelled widely, giving a taste of life in the Iron Age.
As well as having an opportunity to run around hitting people with a sword, she
had an opportunity to tell stories of all kinds, sometimes of her own making,
to all kinds of people. The criticism was sometimes harsh, especially from the
children, but the reward was enormous.
It was here she began to appreciate the power of stories and
the primal need to hear them. In ancient times, the wandering bard was the only
source of news, and the storyteller the heart of the village, keeping the lore
and the magic alive. Although much of the magic has been lost, the stories
still provide a link to the part of us that still wants to believe that it’s
still there, somewhere.
In present times, Cheryl lives in a terraced house in the valleys with her son, dog, bearded dragon and three cats. Her daughter has deserted her for the big city, but they’re still close. She’s never been happier since she was made redundant and is able to devote herself entirely to her twin loves of writing and art, with a healthy smattering of magic and mayhem
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