Midlife Fairy Hunter: The Forty Proof Series, Book 2

by Mayer, Shannon

  “Here, I said I would do it, let me do it.” The fairy flew in front of my face and held out her hands. I gave her the eyeliner pencil, wondering if she could even handle the weight. It was about as long as she was high, but she grabbed it as if it weighed nothing. “Close your eyes.”

  I did as she said and the lightest brush of the pencil tip ran along the edge of my eyelid. “I’d ask your name, but I know that’s probably out of bounds. So what should I call you?” I asked, trying not to breathe out too hard. I hadn’t brushed my teeth yet, and I didn’t want to kill the little critter.

  “You can call me Kinkly. Friends call me Kink.” She moved on to my other eyelid. “You have a lot of loose skin. Is that what happens to humans as they age? Or is something wrong with you?”

  I gritted my teeth. “Are fairy critters always so subtle in their approach to insults?”

  “I wasn’t insulting you,” she said as she ran the pencil along a lower lid. “If I’d wanted to insult you, I’d have mentioned the hovel you live in, the terribly made clothing you wear, or the obvious disdain you have for your appearance. Things you have the power to change. I wouldn’t insult things you can’t change, like your loose skin.”

  My mouth dropped open and I fought not to splutter—bad morning breath, remember? I snapped my mouth shut with a click.

  “Open your eyes.” She fluttered around my face as I blinked at her. “You have pretty green eyes, we need to highlight them. Are you in a mating ritual, is that why you are putting this stuff on? For the one with all the lube? He is very nice to look at. If he were smaller, I’d let him roll around on me in a bed of leaves.”

  I had to fight back a laugh. “No, not for Corb.” Though that idea did have its merits. “I think I’ll be running into my ex-husband later today. Kind of a face-off, if you will. He stole my gran’s house from me, and now it’s going up for auction. He’ll be there, so I want to look good.” Also there was a chance Crash could be there. He’d expressed interest in my gran’s house. Maybe he’d want to buy it and give it to me because my makeup was on point? I snorted to myself, unable to take my own fantasy seriously.

  “You mean you have a mate that is not a mate any longer?” She dropped onto the counter and scooped up a palette of colors. I held my hand out and she plunked it into my palm, then went for a softer brush. This was a perfect deal. One thing I’d never excelled at was the ability to highlight cheekbones, eyebrows, eyes, or lips. A swipe of mascara and maybe some lip gloss was pretty much the high end of my abilities.

  “You are correct,” I mumbled. “A mate that is a mate no longer.”

  “Hmm. Such a human thing. We kill our mates if they betray us. Close your eyes,” she said, and I dutifully obeyed even as I smiled. Killing Himself would certainly bring me satisfaction. The brush flowed over my eyelids, tickling me a little. “Why would you trust me? You know that most people hate fairy folk. We have a deal, but even so, you are very relaxed. Other than when your heart rate accelerated upon seeing that lovely specimen earlier.”

  I sighed. She wasn’t wrong about the heart rate business, or the fact that people didn’t trust fairies. My gran had poured her wisdom into a book I’d been lucky enough to acquire, and in it, written in her own hand, was a warning not to trust any fairy. The fairy—or fae—were tricksters like no others. They cause trouble on a good day. On a bad day they’d hurt you just because they could and get away with it because they were so good at hiding their tracks. Which was probably why Eammon and the Hollows Group had turned down whatever job they’d been offered, regardless of the money.

  So why had Kinkly asked me about trusting her? Her bringing up the trust issue was interesting. I dredged up a few more tidbits from my past schooling with my gran, my mind moving more quickly now that some of the cobwebs had been cleared. “We made a deal, and I understand you all take that seriously. Your wings were involved. Your own kind might have killed you for having been caught, correct?”

  The brush strokes slowed. “You know more about us than I would have thought. The lady was right to ask for you. But the leprechaun said no. He judged us without knowing us or attempting to understand our problem. Would you do the same?”

  Now that was interesting indeed. My mentor Eammon was, of course, the leprechaun in question.

  “No,” I mumbled. “Mostly, I’m done listening to the world and its opinions when it comes to people. By their standards I should not be friends with Eric because he’s a bigfoot. Yet I would consider him a friend.”

  The strokes of the brush picked up speed again. “That is very wise.”

  I wanted to laugh at her. I knew buttering up when I heard it. Even if I hadn’t realized what Boy Butter was based on the packaging.

  “Nah, I’m just tired of jerks and assholes. I’d rather form my own opinions about the people I deal with than let someone else tell me they’re a certain way because they are a fairy, or a bigfoot, or a werewolf.” Or a blacksmith with magic hands.

  She hummed a little as she worked on my face. “I like you. I didn’t expect that.”

  A smile slid over my lips as she put something on them. “Two of my closest friends at the moment are a river maid and a walking skeleton. Why not a fairy too?” Kind of rounded out my current posse. My lips quirked up. “Besides, if Eric likes you, you can’t be too bad.”

  The brush paused over my right eye and then picked up again. A few minutes later she stopped. “There, that is the best I can do given my canvas.”

  I opened my eyes and gave an experimental frown to see if said canvas wrinkled or not. “Pretty good, no crease lines, no red eyes.” I nodded. “Good job, Kinkly.” Really, more than a good job. My skin was smooth, eyes perfectly highlighted, lips just pouty enough to be enticing, not like I’d stuffed them into the business end of a vacuum.

  She blushed and floated about until I held out the palm of my hand for her to land in. “May I come with you to see this ex-man of yours?” she asked. “He sounds horrible. I like to see horrible things. And maybe I can convince you to talk to the lady.”

  Subtle she was not, but I admired a determined woman.

  My eyebrows shot up. “Why not? Maybe you can put a hex on him.”

  She flashed her super sharp teeth. “It would be my pleasure.”

  2

  “The auction for this diamond in the rough, partially furnished 1898 brick home, complete with its own resident ghost, will begin in under ten minutes! Seated right next to the infamous Sorrel-Weed House, you could turn this into an amazing Airbnb with a wait list a mile long!” The realtor’s voice rang out over the small crowd gathered around the front porch of the home that I’d grown up in, the home my gran had lived in for as long as I could remember. “Created in a similar style to its more famous neighbor, this Greek revival house is classic and will never go out of style.”

  “What about the ghosts next door?” someone yelled from the crowd. “They really walk around at night looking for victims?”

  Laughter rolled through the group, and Monica wagged a finger at the offending party. “Now, now. We here in Savannah love our history, and this place here”—she swept her hand backward to encompass Gran’s house—“is as haunted as they come. You won’t be disappointed! In fact, we already have a list of ghost hunters ready to come in and communicate with the dead!”

  Savannah, Georgia was as notorious for its hauntings as it was for the sheen of wealth it had accumulated over the years, so a haunting wasn’t unheard of. However, in a town that lived on tourism, a haunted house could become a money-maker for the right investor. Especially considering it sat next to one of the most investigated haunted houses in town.

  Me? I was not the right investor—I was just a woman who wanted what rightfully belonged to her.

  “Stupid people,” I muttered as I watched their feet trample Gran’s front lawn, which was really her front herb garden. Yes, it looked messy and unkempt, but she’d sworn up and down that was how the plants liked it, and they grew bett
er when you didn’t try to force them in a box. Kind of like people. The lavender bush by the wall was nearly shoulder height, its soft purple blooms dipping and bobbing in a soft breeze. Kinkly sat on my left shoulder, her legs using my boob for a footrest. The powers of a great push-up bra were all that made it possible.

  “Yes,” Kinkly said. “They do look stupid. Why are they stepping on all the good plants?”

  My eyes swept over the people who’d shown up to bid, or maybe just to gawk, but I saw neither Himself—my ex-husband, for those not following along— nor anyone else I recognized, and my gaze came back to the person on the porch. The realtor, Monica, had on a too-tight pencil skirt and was cradling a clipboard in the crook of one arm as she flourished a pen in her other hand. Smiling magnanimously at the crowd as if she were a not-quite-as-pretty-Vanna White, she said, “This is very exciting. We’ve not had an auction on a house in our sweet little town in a very long time. I’ll let you have one final look through, and then at noon on the dot, we will start the bidding at one hundred thousand dollars. The down payment, ten percent of the final amount, will be required immediately in the form of cash or a bank draft.”

  I didn’t go into the house with the rest of the people, but instead waited on my spot in the middle of the only path in or out of the small fenced yard. Sweating for more reasons than the warm spring weather. Ten percent was a lot of any amount. I wouldn’t be able to bid as high as I’d hoped.

  As I waited, my thoughts circled around the house. I’d come to Savannah to reclaim it, although I’d initially intended to go a legal route. Himself was a divorce lawyer, though, and a good one, as demonstrated by the series of incomprehensible legal manipulations by which he’d both reclaimed my gran’s house and left me with all our marital debt. Everything about the situation pissed me off, but nothing so much as losing Gran’s house. It was about the only thing I’d wanted as our marriage fell apart.

  And he’d damn well known it.

  I let out a slow breath, fighting to push the anger away. Some people could use anger to propel them, but it had always exhausted me.

  “Think positive,” I whispered to myself.

  “Positive what?” Kinkly asked.

  “Happy thoughts,” I mumbled, knowing the other humans in the yard would only see me talking to myself like a crazy woman.

  “Oh, you want to fly?” Kinkly tugged on my ear, and I glanced at her and quickly shook my head. I wasn’t sure if she was kidding, and the last thing I needed was to go floating over the yard and scaring all the people with what looked like a legit demon possession . . . wait. Maybe that was exactly what I needed!

  “Yes! You can do that?” I clapped my hands together.

  Kinkly tugged on my ear. “Then you have to agree to talk to my boss.”

  “Sure, talking I can do!” If I could scare away most if not all of the bidders, I’d be golden. Besides, talking never hurt anyone. Right?

  Right.

  Excitement and hope flared as Kinkly fluttered up to the top of my head and did a tap dance on my skull.

  I was going to pull a Peter Pan and scare the ever-loving bejesus out of these people, and the only word I could come up with was epic. This was going to be epic.

  A fuzzy tingle rolled from my skull down my limbs, and my hands floated up above my head, followed by my left leg, which left me standing on a single foot, like a really awkward ballerina. The pull on my limbs was uncomfortable for a moment, my body dangling from my arms and my left leg, but whatever gravity had held me down finally let go and I popped off the ground.

  “It’s cursed, this place is cursed! Demons! Gawd in heaven, I’m possessed!” I yelled and let out a strangled growl as I threw my head back. I wouldn’t usually make a spectacle of myself to get what I wanted (at least not intentionally). But this was Gran’s house. A little spectacle was worth it. Really, who was I trying to impress? No one, that’s who.

  The potential buyers came running back down the steps, flashes of horror on one face after another, and then the shrieking began. I got a glimpse of Monica’s seething face as I spun in the air, moved by a force outside of myself. Because while it was one thing to want a haunted house, it was another to see someone floating around your potential yard all snarling and growling. Most people were all bluster and no bite when it came to this kind of thing.

  I turned again, not meaning to. “Kinkly?”

  “Sorry, you’re bigger than I thought. I couldn’t lighten all of you up.”

  I grimaced. “Whatever. You’ll be able to get me down?”

  “Um.”

  “UM?” I twisted around in the air. “Are you kidding me?”

  Monica stomped down the front steps. “This is ridiculous! It’s a stunt!”

  She touched my dangling foot as if she’d pull me down, but instead she lifted off the ground with a squeal that would make a particular farm animal proud.

  “She sounds like a pig!” Kinkly giggled, not one for subtlety. “I didn’t think I could send my magic over her!”

  “Contagious,” I muttered as I tried to wiggle my foot loose of Monica’s hands.

  Kinkly fluttered around. “I’m trying, I’m trying! I’m not as experienced as some!”

  I did my best to relax, but I was floating upside down, Monica hanging from one limb. On the bright side, all the humans from the area had left. My plan had worked. There would be no other bidders, and I’d have the house in no time.

  Gran would be so happy! Hell, I knew I was grinning like a fool.

  My thoughts must have summoned her, as a gray-haired woman in swirling skirts and a loose blouse stepped down the stairs, her body fading a little in the bright sunlight as she drew closer. I mean that literally, she did not have a solid body and I could see through her to the porch stairs.

  Monica let out one last shriek and went quiet.

  “Did she pass out?” I asked, though no one answered me.

  I shook my foot and Monica’s body flopped a little like a fish on the line, her fingers digging into me out of sheer self-perseveration despite the fact that she was out cold. Well damn. Score one for good instincts.

  I pitched my voice low as I spoke to my grandmother, just in case Monica wasn’t fully out. “Gran, I didn’t know you could come out here. I thought you had to stay inside.”

  She didn’t seem terribly troubled by the sight of me hovering in the air, but then again, she was dead. She was the resident ghost mentioned by Monica the realtor.

  Gran spread her hands wide and brushed her fingers over the top of a plant I think was some sort of mint. It went right through her fingers, of course, but I did note that the leaves seemed to green up under her touch. Interesting. “The garden was my home as much as my house, and all those people were out here touching my things. I didn’t like it, Breena. I truly didn’t. When they came inside, I considered tipping the mirror on them, but that mirror has been in the family for too long to waste it on a few peasants tromping through my house.” Her voice gained a measure of irritation, which told me she was truly angry.

  A Southern belle in her own time, Gran didn’t think it was passing pretty to show your anger. My lips twitched as I waited for the line . . .

  “Bless their hearts, they have no idea what they are messing with, do they?”

  Translation: What a bunch of idiots, I can’t help it if they’re so stupid they’re going to hurt themselves.

  I sighed. “I’m trying to get the house, Gran, I am. I came with money. And now I’ve scared a bunch of them off.” Kinkly bobbed beside me. Could she see Gran? Not everyone could.

  “Hey, I helped,” Kinkly said.

  Gran’s eyes shot to her, but she shrugged off her presence and waved a hand at me. “Honey girl, don’t fret. Things will work out. None of those yahoos will have my house, I’m sure of it.”

  If I hadn’t gotten rid of all the people, she’d have been dead wrong—no pun intended. The only reason I had any money for the down payment was because Eric had rewarde
d me generously for saving his life. The other members of the Hollows Group had written him off as a paranoid kook, so they’d given me, a trainee, the task of protecting him. Too bad someone had been stalking him—a bunch of nut jobs who’d wanted to use him as a sacrifice for a bit of black magic.

  Grave magic, as it were.

  Although I’d prevented the black magic folks from hurting Eric, they’d held a different ceremony at a second location. My boss still hadn’t told me what had happened with that, probably because the members of the Hollows Group weren’t really the sharing type.

  Not that I should talk.

  I swallowed hard and shot a glance at my gran. I hadn’t told her yet that one of her best friends, Hattie, had been at the center of the plot to kill Eric and use his blood in a grave magic ceremony. We knew Hattie had intended to open some sort of gateway to call through a major demon, but why? What could she have possibly wanted? I didn’t know, and that in itself was concerning. But there was no way to question her now—she’d been killed to stop the ceremony, by yours truly. I’m not sure I’d fully processed that yet either. You don’t kill someone and feel nothing unless you are a true-blue psycho, and despite what Himself would say of me, I didn’t think that term fit me.

  “What’s got you fussed?” Gran looked up at me, her wizened faced wrinkling up even further. She really was like a female Yoda, other than the ears and the green skin. Even her diminutive height added to the Yoda impression as she blinked up at me.

  “Worried about the auction,” I said, which was both true and not true. “I have enough for a down payment if the price doesn’t go too high, but I might not be able to get a mortgage because of what Alan did to my credit. I’m banking on them not being able to check right away.”

  A quick glance around proved no one else had shown up for the auction, but that didn’t solve my problem of dangling in the air. It would only take one or two tourists to notice my predicament, and I’d have a whole new slew of issues. I shook my foot and Monica’s hand slid off, but she still floated just below me. “Kinkly, can you get us down?”