“She’s not a witch,” Jinni sipped at his tea, “she’s a fairy. Kahar.” The last dripped from his tongue like venom.
She covered her mouth, containing the mirth that threatened to spill when Gerard’s face mottled a dark shade of red.
“I detest when you speak Chinese.”
“To vilify a man is the readiest way in which a little man can himself attain greatness,” Hatter said, never taking his eyes from some unknown spot in the distance.
Gerard’s face screwed up, as if contemplating Hatter’s words and whether to take umbrage or not. Finally the effort seemed too much for him. “Argh,” he growled, dismissing him with a flick of his wrist.
Hook rolled his eyes. “He’s Persian, you idiot.”
Gerard clenched his fist. “I can take you, une main.”
“Beauty with no brains, Calypso save us,” Hook said in a whiskey-thick drawl. “He called you an idiot, you dolt.” Never a patient sort, his silver hook tapped the table.
Tap.
The wolf’s nostrils flared. Yellow eyes narrowed to thin slits.
Tap.
A low guttural growl.
Hook’s lips twisted as he looked toward the wolf whose hackles were raised, eyes glowing with threat of violence.
Tap.
“Bloody hell!” Gerard smashed his fist into the table, knocking a silver platter full of crumpets to the floor. “Shut up,” he snarled and snatched up a roasted leg of turkey. Straight white teeth ripped into it with animal aggression.
“Oy,” a tiny squeak rang from a ceramic teapot.
Hatter sighed and flipped the lid up. Leonard popped his furry brown head out. Whiskers twitching as he said, “I’ll give ye a nibble to yer hind, I will.”
“Oh hush, rat. And why do you bother with such a stupid creature anyway?” Gerard asked, looking at Hatter and pointing his ravaged turkey leg at the mouse whose eyes bulged with indignation.
“I never,” Leonard huffed, looking back at Hatter.
Hatter patted his furry head, handed him a sugar cube, and tucked him back into his favorite cubbyhole.
The Wolf gave a gentle whuff, whether of agreement or not-it was hard to say-and continued lapping at the cream within the silver dog bowl.
“Uncivilized.” Jinni sniffed. His form shimmered like heat rolling off the desert sands. Cursed years ago to a semi-corporal existence, Jinni might never again know the touch of another soul. A curse Danika still worked diligently to try and reverse. Of all her boys, he was the most confusing. A naturally magical creature, he was Djinn-genie to most. With powers that rivaled her own, by all rights he shouldn’t have a godmother. But... he’d screwed up big, gotten himself cursed, lost his ability to use magic, and was now her problem to fix.
However-stubborn, difficult man that he was-he was offended by the very notion of a godmother. Which made her job all the more difficult.
Danika knew beneath Jinni’s icy exterior flowed lava. A spark so hot it consumed. If a woman could ever get into that cold heart, his passion would burn as bright as the desert land he’d hailed from. However there was still the minor problem of his near invisibility.
But she was not here for Wolf, Hook, Jinni, or even the lovely, thick-headed, Gerard.
Hatter slouched even further in his seat, his stare a mile long. Antipathy clung to him like second skin.
She tsked.
Wolf stilled, sniffed, then looked up. The others followed suit.
“Fairy godmother, here to grace us with your presence. Oh goodie.” To the untrained ear Hook’s greeting smacked of sarcasm, but she knew the raven-haired brute well.
She dropped to the center of the table, dwarfed by heaping trays of food and enveloped by the scented aroma of tea and spices.
Danika walked toward him, gossamer skirts swishing in her wake. “Were you hoping maybe for Tinker? Heard tell you had a thing for waifish blondes.” She patted the back of her bun, pointing the wand at her chest. “I could always turn myself...”
“Bollox,” he growled, but couldn’t quite hide the smile twitching the corner of his full lower lip. “I’ve a Pan to conquer, madam, so do let us hurry.”
“Ravishing as always. And is that stardust? Why, Danika, you shouldn’t have dressed so formally for us.” Gerard smoldered, his words layered with sex and decadence. Promises of dark seduction and wicked nights danced in the air.
Her stomach quivered and heat bloomed in her cheeks.
He smiled and scratched his own. The rascal. She’d find a woman to bring him to his knees. Too bad Belle had fallen for the Beast-she’d seemed so perfect. But alas...
She turned on the Hatter. He looked even more bedraggled up close. His tie was undone and skewed. She flitted to him, attempted to tuck the dark strands of hair in his eyes back, but it was useless. Finally, she sighed.
“What has happened to you, Hatter?”
There were no emotions on his face and no smile to betray a hint of what he felt. “Life happened, fairy. Surely you know. Or haven’t you heard? Cursed I am. The sky is gray, the sky is light, and still the Hatter bemoans his plight.”