by Shona Husk
He touched the threads and saw Shea.
“How is that possible?” He wrapped the towel back around his waist and glanced around his room half-expecting Shea to be standing in the corner laughing. But he was alone. He opened up his drawers, but everything there was a tangle of strings. Right. He had no clothes. The familiar twitch that only dealing with fairies caused was back.
This was an annoyance, nothing more. And yet it was far more intimate than a dagger through the door. Shea had been in his room and through his things. He suppressed a shudder and tried to be calm. It was only clothes, and if that was the best Shea could do there wasn’t anything to worry about.
His gaze landed on yesterday’s clothes on the floor where he’d left them before going to bed. Good thing it was jeans and a shirt instead of sweaty running clothes. But he was willing to bet that everything in the laundry basket was still as it should be. Brownies didn’t do laundry, and he didn’t mind. It gave him a semblance of normality that most people would trade in a heartbeat. There was at least a few days’ worth of clothing waiting to be cleaned. None of which he could pack into an overnight bag for his stay at Lydia’s.
Dressed in yesterday’s castoffs he jogged down the stairs and checked in the laundry. His suspicions were confirmed.
“Screw you, Shea,” he muttered as he stuffed the darks into the machine and got them going. A fairy lord wouldn’t think of laundry; he’d be used to his clothes getting sorted out by servants.
“Why are you cursing him?” Dylis leaned against the door frame, arms crossed.
“Go look in my closet.”
Caspian turned, but she was already gone.
Her high-pitched laughter tinkled through the house like the annoying little bells people put on cat collars.
“Oh my, that is the oldest trick known to fairies.” Dylis was still grinning.
“I will have to buy new things right away.” Before he went to Lydia’s, as he couldn’t show up in yesterday’s clothes and with nothing clean to put on. He inhaled and forced it out slowly. He didn’t need this extra fairy bullshit in his life.
“It’s still funny, and it could’ve been so much worse. He could’ve done a wear and unravel spell, so you’d be left standing naked in town.” She started giggling again.
Caspian gave a snort that almost turned into a laugh. “Point taken.”
“It’ll be fine.” She nodded and smiled. Dylis never said anything would be fine, and her smile was now a little too forced. “You can’t stop living just because he could be waiting; if you do he’s already taken control and that’s what he wants. He wants to make your life so unbearable you agree to whatever deal he offers. Do not let him make the deal. If you have to, you make the deal, you set the terms.”
“If I make a deal with a Grey, and word gets back to Court, I’m screwed.”
Dylis pressed her lips together but had nothing to say.
Great, just great. He needed to find the damn Window and hand it over to the Court before Shea could do any more damage to his life.
But he didn’t see Shea all day. Or any Grey, not even a little one. He collected the new glass for the ex-enchanted mirror, fixed it up, and hung it on display. Got through a pile of paperwork and managed to firm up a few prices on some of Madam Callaway’s furniture. He emailed an acquaintance about the books, as he didn’t usually deal with them. As well as picking up some new clothes. Nothing fancy, just the basics, and he wasn’t even sure he’d be needing the new pajama pants. He didn’t want to be using them. But she might have changed her mind in daylight.
He glanced at Dylis lying on a sideboard, arm over her eyes like she was bored out of her walnut-sized head. She’d be dismayed that he’d broken the enchanted mirror and had seemed almost disappointed by the lack of Grey action.
“Give me five minutes to close up and you can come to Lydia’s.” He hoped he sounded more enthused about that than he felt. At least with Dylis if he was followed by Greys, there would be a measure of protection, plus she could find out more about Lydia’s ghost.
That got her moving. She peeled herself up with more grace than anyone he’d ever seen, as if gravity released her for a moment and she floated to standing. “Can’t wait to see what I find in the house.”
Caspian ignored her and set about closing up the shop. When he was ready to leave, Dylis swung onto his arm and held onto his shirtsleeve as he went out the back to where his car was parked. As soon as he crossed the threshold of the shop he knew something wasn’t right.
“Do you hear that?”
“A humming?” Dylis climbed higher and stood on his shoulder.
He didn’t worry about compensating for her; she’d never once fallen off—even when he’d gone through a phase of riding a motorbike in his twenties. Her balance was unnatural.
“It’s not fairy-related. And yet…” She stopped, no doubt because she’d just spotted his car, like he had.
The car was humming. Vibrating. Swarming might have been a better description. The inside of his car was full of black-and-yellow-striped insects. He hoped they were bees and not wasps. But even then he wasn’t game enough to walk over, open a door, and let them out.
Dylis jumped down and walked over. Caspian took a step back. He wasn’t allergic to bees, but they didn’t seem like happy bees and he was pretty sure that a thousand stings would be fatal.
“Don’t open the car.”
“I wasn’t born last century.” She bounced onto the hood as if she were taking a single step and peered through the windscreen.
“He’s really gone all out this time. There’s a whole hive in there.”
“If he thinks this is going to work, he’s wrong.” He spun, looking for the Grey, as if he could be hiding in any shadow. He had to be nearby. “Hear that, Shea—I will not be bullied by you.” He’d been bullied by human children at school and he wasn’t going to be press-ganged into finding a very dangerous artifact for the Grey.
Caspian pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called a cab while his car shook with fury. Shea had done that while he’d been in the shop only yards away and neither Dylis nor he had noticed. Was he getting bolder? What would the next escalation be? He glanced through the shop window and swallowed. While his house might be protected, nothing else was. And Shea had proved he was willing to get close. There was nothing stopping Shea from slowly pulling apart his life the way he had done his clothes.
He couldn’t lose everything again. He’d worked too hard to get this far. There was only one way to stop the damage. Find the Window.
* * *
Lydia heard the car pull up and was at the front door ready to greet Caspian before he knocked. She’d gotten changed after work and had spent a bit of time bringing some of the things out of the stable, now used for storage. There was a lawnmower in there that looked like it hadn’t been used in fifty years. But there were also trunks of things that were too heavy for her to lift. It was like Gran had packed up but had never bothered to sort out. The good news was that Caspian would have to keep coming around for a while.
Seeing him was like a break from her real life. A slice of sunshine through stormy clouds. She needed more sunlight in her life.
Caspian walked up the path to her doorstep. “Hi.”
“Hi.” His gaze slid over her without pausing on any part, but no doubt noticing the dust smudged all over her clothing. “You started without me?”
“I’ve been unpacking the stable.” In the corner of her eyes something moved; she glanced over but there was nothing there. Odd, she thought she’d heard something.
Caspian turned his head and she thought she saw him flinch, but then he turned back to face her. “Let’s go in.”
A breeze blew a piece of paper down the street and a chill followed. She suppressed a shiver and stepped back. Caspian shut the door after himself and turned the lock. He was security conscious… of course he was; he dealt in antiques and things worth thousands of dollars.
�
��Did I see a cab pulling away?” She raised one eyebrow.
“My car was making an odd humming sound. I didn’t want to risk breaking down.”
“It does look like a storm is coming.” She glanced at him and smiled. “Good thing you’re staying.” That he’d turned up with his laptop and an overnight bag was enough to confirm he was sleeping over tonight. In which bed was the real question.
She hadn’t been able to get his kiss out of her head. It had been enough to feed her dreams and make her realize it had been too long between boyfriends. Her body bubbled with expectation, lust coiled in her belly.
Caspian nodded and placed his bag and laptop satchel by the wrought-iron hat stand. “Or did you want me to put it in a room?”
“That’s fine for the moment. We can sort out the rest later.” Why was she so nervous?
“Good idea.” He seemed to relax a little. Maybe this was just as odd for him—which was reassuring. If he’d sauntered in confident of his place, she might have changed her mind.
“Before you set up, can you help me get to some of the trunks in the stable? It might save us some time if they are just full of linen.”
“Sure. Then I’ll do the bedrooms?”
She nodded and tried to ignore the heat creeping over her skin.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know.” She pushed her hair back. “When I invited you to stay I didn’t know if I was inviting you to stay or sleep.”
“That’s okay; I wasn’t sure which I wanted.”
More like he knew what he wanted but wasn’t sure if he wanted to go after it. She’d seen the desire in his eyes and felt the heat of his kiss, but she didn’t want to be pushing when he was hesitant.
“And now?”
“I still don’t know.” His fingers brushed her cheek. “But not because I don’t want you, because I do, but because it’s spectacularly bad timing and…” His thumb touched her lip.
For a moment she thought he was going to mention his ex. She held her breath, not wanting to be rebound-girl or cast in the exes shadow.
“It’s fast.”
“This is our third date.” Third meeting was probably more appropriate, but she’d had worse dates. Besides, they were talking and doing the other stuff that happened on dates—today was just as awkward as any should-we? type conversation she’d ever had on a date.
He smiled. “True, although we haven’t had dinner out yet.”
“Is that one of your rules?”
“I don’t know anymore.” He paused. “Maybe following the rules isn’t always the best thing to do.” Then he kissed her. Slowly at first as if testing to see if the spark was still there waiting to be fanned.
It was. Heat filled her blood and spread throughout her body. Lust consumed her and for a moment she wanted to forget the work that needed doing and just go upstairs. He pulled away almost reluctantly.
“Stables?” Caspian inhaled and straightened as if readying himself to face something awful. He wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t like deceased estates. She reached out her hand to reassure him that she didn’t mind him poking around. His hand closed around hers. Warm and firm. She’d stayed up late the night before bagging Gran’s clothes and personal belongings. It had been horrible and she’d been glad there’d been no one there to see her. But it was done. The only things left in that room were the jewelry and furniture and a diary that she’d slipped into her purse for safekeeping. There was nothing personal here now, just history. Boxes and trunks and cupboards of history.
She led him out the back. His gaze flickered over the garden that could do with some attention, pruning, weeding, and all the other little tasks that went into making a garden look great instead of scrubby and overgrown. Something rustled to the right and he tensed. His hand gave hers a slight squeeze.
“Are you okay?” She raised her eyebrows. He’d seemed a little jumpy when he’d arrived. Was he just as nervous as her? Maybe they shouldn’t even be thinking about it if it was making them both wired… or maybe they should just get it out of their systems. The all-in method as opposed to testing the water with one toe first.
“Yeah, it’s just been one of those days.”
“The kind where you wished you’d stayed in bed?” Everything out of her mouth was about beds.
“Exactly that kind of day.” He nodded as he spoke as if he was reliving the highlights. “But I’d rather be here than at home alone.”
“Me too.” It was nice to have someone to spend the evening with. Someone who didn’t care if she was in old jeans and a T-shirt and covered in dust. She yanked open the shed door, which squealed like it was dying. The sound set her teeth on edge. It hadn’t made that noise last time. She swung the door again, but it was silent.
“Old hinges; must have been a flake of rust caught in there.” He put his hand on the door and had a look just to be sure.
Lydia pulled a flashlight off the shelves and flicked it on. Something moved in the shadows, and glass smashed. Her heart bounced hard in her chest. “What the hell?”
Caspian muttered something, then spoke up. “Mice?”
“I haven’t seen any.” She cast the beam of light around the shed with a shaky hand, but this time nothing moved.
Very strange. And now she was alert to every rustle as if she was the one who’d drunk too many espressos. Whatever twitches Caspian had tonight were catchy.
“These two trunks.” She indicated two black trunks with metal corners, both padlocked closed. “Once they are out, I can start pulling out the smaller things.”
He stood next to her, close enough that their arms bushed. Deliberate or accidental? A shiver of heat ran under her skin. Then he touched the top trunk and gave it a test nudge. “It looks frequently used.”
“How can you tell?” She turned to face him.
His lips opened, and this close all she could think about was kissing him again. Was she really that desperate? She glanced at him and the way the torchlight caught his features. He looked otherworldly. Her heart gave a flip-flop that was somewhere between attraction and warning.
“Less rust on the lock. Do you have the keys?” His words were about work but his gaze was on her mouth; he looked up and met her gaze.
Those green eyes were more dangerous than all the glaciers in the Arctic. Whatever was going on behind them was hidden until it was too late. He wanted her and was trying to do the right thing; because of that she wanted him more. She wouldn’t be the only woman. His eyes combined with his dark curly hair made him the kind of man who’d leave a trail of women staring after him, and Lydia was willing to bet he never even noticed. But he was noticing her. Heat seemed to shimmer between them, but neither of them moved to take what they wanted.
“They were in Gran’s room,” she murmured, not wanting to break the moment. Her toes curled, hoping he’d close those few inches and place his lips on hers. Should she lean forward and taste his lips one more time?
The kiss was left untaken.
“Shall I walk backward?”
Walk backward? Her mind took a moment to catch up; he was talking about moving the trunk and getting on with the job. She had to blink and break the spell he cast to find her voice and form a coherent thought. How could he have that much effect on her? “I know the house better; I’ll walk backward.”
With that they picked up the handles and hefted the first trunk out of the stable and across the garden and into the kitchen. The second trunk followed. Once they were out the stable looked, well, still full of stuff. Boxes, tea chests, and what looked like a saddle and tack against one wall, along with tools and a rocking horse that looked straight out of one of those decorating magazines—except for the cobweb.
“There’s a lot in here.” He nodded to himself as if working out how long it was going to take to assess what was valuable and what was household junk.
Yeah, and she had no idea what she was going to do with it. How much of Gran could she throw out? She didn�
�t have room for everything in her apartment. And yet she couldn’t imagine living here. She’d rattle around like Gran had, living in only a few rooms while the rest of the house crumbled around her. But it did seem silly to keep her own place while this one was empty. Gran had suggested so many times that she come back home and save her money, and she’d always refused, wanting her independence and distance from the house. A lump formed in her throat and she had to blink in case tears formed and fell. She wished she’d taken Gran up on her offer. Then they would’ve had more time together.
“Do you ever look at the size of a job and wonder why you agreed to it?” Because if she was him, working after-hours to fit with her schedule, she’d be regretting ever taking the job, no matter how good the money.
“Not this time. The house is amazing; for its age there have been few renovations and those that have been done don’t look tacked on.” He looked at her. “It would be a shame to lose it.”
She looked away and studied the rear of the house, trying to see it as he must. As a historical treasure. But she could only regard it as her childhood home. She didn’t see the craftsmanship of the stonework or intricacy of the trellis that led up to her former bedroom. She saw the escape route she’d used to sneak out of the house when she was fifteen. Gran had caught her and explained that if Lydia wanted to go out all she had to do was ask and Gran would drop her off and pick her up and make sure she was safe. After that she’d always walked out the front door. Her poor Gran, yet she’d never complained about raising a teenager in her seventies and had never once said a bad word about her own daughter, Helen, even though it must have hurt.
Caspian was right. Selling to someone who wanted to profit on the past would be wrong, but she couldn’t sell, then stipulate to the buyer how to use the property. There had to be a way to save the house and not send her into debt for the rest of her life.
“I can’t make any decisions until everything gets valued and divvied up.” That was her excuse and she was sticking to it. Then she grabbed the door and indicated that stable time was over and it was time to work. They had to get something done tonight and she needed to know what was in the trunks. Especially the more frequently used one.
