“It’s called decoration for a reason.” I ticked off a few fingers, the brown stone warm in my palm. “When you start paying rent, when you start contributing to the bills, and when you start cleaning up after yourself—then we’ll talk about household decisions.” I thrust the stone back at her. “Tell me more about the smell.”
She didn’t bother to sniff again, her gaze fixed on mine. “It’s bad.”
“Use it,” I said. “Follow that man’s trail.”
The grushound did as I commanded, weaving back into the thick of the crowd. Now, with the scarf gone, I felt the gazes of the Sidhe following me once more. “Oh, get over it,” I called out. “I have legal status and I’m just trying to do my job. Yes, I was raised by mortals and my clothes are weird. Whoop-dee-doo.” I supposed, if I’d been trying to fit in, this was the wrong way to go about it. But I was never going to fit in, and I was tired of being stared at.
They muttered amongst themselves, like cliques of gossiping high schoolers, but most turned back to whatever it was they’d been doing. I had to jog a bit to catch up to the shaggy black form of my grushound as the market thinned and the forest deepened. Very few Fae wandered the outskirts, and those that did cast furtive glances my way, and I caught two passing packages to one another from beneath their cloaks.
A couple light globes floated in the branches of the trees, combining with the wan sunlight filtering through the leaves and providing minimal illumination. A single merchant had set up a stall here, and he was selling something that looked suspiciously like dried up pig’s feet.
“Over here,” Anwynn said. She stopped at the trunk of an enormous oak tree. Its gnarled roots seemed to form a part of the hillside itself. They twisted around and over one another like a mass of hibernating snakes. At the base of the tree trunk, two roots had parted, a dark hollow between them, leading into the hill itself. There, on the ground, was the man’s bag.
The man himself was gone.
CHAPTER FOUR
I COULD TELL FROM THE WAY THE BAG LAY crumpled among the leaves that he’d emptied it. I poked at it anyway, the way one does at a crab or a spider. “Is his scent on it?”
Anwynn sniffed it. “No. He handled it with gloves.”
I leaned over her and peered into the darkness between the roots. A gust of cold air tugged at my hair. The cave smelled of rotting leaves, pools of still water, and moss-covered rocks. I couldn’t say exactly why, but I didn’t want to venture into the darkness. “What’s that?”
“Gloves,” Anwynn said dryly. “Surely you’ve heard of them? You put them on your hands. Sometimes they’re made of leather, sometimes they’re made of cloth, sometimes they’re made of rubber.”
I gave her a long, silent stare, putting my hand in the jacket pocket that held her leash. “The hole.”
“Underhill passage,” she said quickly. “The Fae sometimes use them to travel between realms. Maps tend to be proprietary, kept within the family. Passages are a maze and often littered with trolls.”
“So a bad idea,” I said.
“Bad. Terrible.”
I flipped the stone in the air, watching the way it glittered as it fell back into my palm. I remembered what the merchant had said. A daemon geas. It didn’t sound good, whatever it was. Grian was gone, Dorian’s family hadn’t secured the top spot amongst the Fae families yet, and it seemed that desperate bids for power might now be a thing. I gave Anwynn a sideways glance. She was a royal pain sometimes, but I had the feeling that the servant and master relationship didn’t sit well with her.
And I did still have a sizeable chunk of savings. I held the stone to my nose and sniffed it, trying to smell what Anwynn had. For the barest moment, I thought I detected something below the warm, oily scent of my hand. “You know what this stone is. Tell me, and we’ll talk about the television.”
Her ears pricked, and for the first time since I’d bonded her, she looked a little like an actual, normal hound. “It’s not a stone,” she said. “It’s the petrified heart of a kelpie.”
I nearly dropped it. I’d just sniffed the thing. “Is it rare?”
“Quite rare. Kelpies are nasty beasts. I’d be surprised if he could find another in the marketplace.”
I dropped the heart into my pocket and rubbed my palm off on my pants. “Good. Then he’ll want it back. Now let’s find that unicorn-purified water and get out of here.”
“I’m afraid you won’t find any unicorn-purified water here,” a voice said from behind me.
I whirled, my sword in hand before I could remember reaching into my pocket.
Dorian leaned against an empty booth, arms crossed. If I’d stood out like a sore thumb amongst the Sidhe in my jeans and jacket, Dorian stood out like a broken, gangrenous thumb. He was dressed in mortal clothes, or his best guess for how mortals dressed, anyways. He wore a tuxedo jacket over a gray T-shirt, a bowtie, and board shorts. Oddly enough, he was wearing the buttery leather shoes most of the Sidhe wore—as if he just hadn’t had enough time to get around to that detail. His blond hair had been pulled back into a tail, and the scent of black pepper hung in the air around him. Though Dorian had helped me defeat Grian, I was certain he hadn’t done so out of the kindness of his heart.
“Have you been following me?” I asked. I let the sword shrink back to a knife and slipped it back into my pocket. A couple of Guardians, on the fringe of the market, had started in our direction. They relaxed as soon as I put the sword away.
Dorian shrugged, a movement that he somehow managed to make look graceful. “Only a little.”
“You’re sort of creepy, you know that, right?”
He glanced down. “Oh, I don’t dress this way in the Fae world, normally. I was watching you in the mortal world.”
“That…doesn’t make things any better.” I tapped my fingernails against the knife as I thought. I glanced at Anwynn. “And you didn’t smell him?”
Her lip curled. “Does it look like I have two noses? You told me to track the sprites. Besides, there are ways to hide from a grushound. Expensive ways, but I’d wager he has the means.”
In the distance, between the tree branches, the market bustled. The noise carried to us in a murmur like the rustling of wind through dried leaves. “Right.” I turned back to Dorian. “So what was that about the unicorn-purified water?”
“You won’t find any in the market.” He reached into the breast pocket of his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a faintly glowing vial. “Because I bought the last one.”
Did I mention that Dorian had tried to kill me the first time we’d met? I pulled my hand from my pocket, just so I wouldn’t be tempted to draw my sword again. “So you’ve followed me around, and now you’ve got the only vial of unicorn water I’ll be able to obtain in a reasonable amount of time. What’s your game here? Why me?”
“I’m not as shortsighted as the rest of the Fae, especially now that you’ve been granted legal status. Let’s just say that you’re my special project.”
“If this involves rubbing lotion on my skin and a hose, I’m not interested.”
Dorian blinked. “Why would I…what?”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. The cultural divide between the Fae and mortals was so wide, I sometimes felt that straddling that gap would split me in two. “Never mind. Just speak plainly. What do you want for the vial?”
He pulled a silver crown of leaves from the bag at his side. “I want you to transform this.”
I took the proffered crown, bemused. It was cold and heavy in my hands. The detail on the leaves was impeccable; I could feel each vein beneath my fingertips. “Transform it into what?”
“A hat that looks like a duck defecating on the wearer.”
That…begged more questions. I hefted the circlet. “And this is…?”
“A crown.”
I gave Dorian a flat look. Was it just my imagination, or did the Fae like to avoid answering questions? “What is it exactly?”
He sighed. “The ance
stral crown of the Evar family. It has a charm crafted into it—if you wear it, you can hear lies. But you have to wear it.”
Anwynn, behind me, began to huff, the hound equivalent of laughter. “Oh, I think I like you, Prince.”
Dorian spread his hands wide. “Their king insulted my family, and I’m just paying him back a little. Only a Changeling will be able to undo the magic, and you’re the only living Changeling, so… I stole his hat. It’s harmless, really. He doesn’t have to wear the crown if he doesn’t want to.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you in the habit of making enemies?”
Dorian grinned and shook the vial of unicorn-purified water. “And allies.”
“Not allies,” I said. “Business associates, maybe.” I turned the crown over in my hands. I wasn’t stupid. If I changed this circlet, the king of the Evar family would know it was me. There were no other Changelings. I doubt he could link me to stealing it. But even if he couldn’t—what did it say about me, that I was willing to do this for Dorian of the Caervohns? I might find other Fae on my doorstep, looking for favors. Or, even worse, it might make me appear weak. And among the Sidhe, that was like being an injured fish in a school of sharks.
But what other choice did I have? I could keep looking for unicorn-purified water, and maybe I’d even find some. But I’d lose time—time I probably didn’t have. Whoever the cloaked man was, I needed to apprehend him before he and his sprites caused more havoc, or even worse, got someone killed.
“Fine. We have a deal.” I closed my eyes, thought of my home, of growing up thinking I was mortal. The magic tingled at my fingertips. When I opened my eyes, the crown was a stuffed mallard, a rubbery-looking poop protruding from its behind. There was really no good way to wear this thing. I supposed that was the intention.
“You won’t regret this,” Dorian said, snatching up the duck with a smile and handing over the vial.
“No,” I said, “I probably will.” My magical signature arose from the bag that Dorian tucked the duck into: dark chocolate with a hint of coffee. I reached over and tapped the bag to get rid of it. The Evar king might figure I’d transformed the thing, but no need to make things even easier for him.
Dorian regarded me as he closed the clasp on his bag. “This is the way of the Sidhe, you know. You cannot gain without giving up something in return. There are no clear bargains, any gifts without strings. If you want to survive among us, you’ll need to learn to craft your own advantages.”
I tucked the vial into my pocket, where it clinked against the butter knife. “And I suppose that piece of advice comes without any strings? Just handing out free advice to Fae newbies?”
“Gratitude can be powerful, too.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re awful, you know that?”
“You don’t really believe that.”
The guy just oozed smugness. With a flip of his coattails, he turned and strode away into the trees. As soon as he’d walked out of earshot, I turned to my hound. “Don’t even start. I know that was a bad idea.”
She just grinned wolfishly. “Life with you is going to get a lot more interesting. I’ve been around the Evar family. They’re a bunch of snobs—well, even more so than most of the Sidhe—and they’re not going to like what you did to their ancestral crown.”
“I’ll worry about it later,” I said, trying to keep my voice airy. Inside, my stomach tied itself into knots. Good thing I made my home in the mortal world. “Now let’s cleanse this guy and move on.”
It didn’t turn out to be as easy as I’d expected. I sometimes forgot that time passed differently in the Fae world than it did in the mortal one. By the time we got back and drove back to Chris’s house, Kailen was just pulling up. It was a little past ten, and the streets were empty. I should have been grateful that I’d lost so little time; instead, I just felt a little sick.
Anwynn, in the passenger seat next to me, turned her big head toward Kailen’s black BMW, then back toward me. I didn’t look over, but I heard his car door open and close.
“He’s looking this way,” Anwynn said. “He knows what your car looks like, you know. And I’m not exactly inconspicuous.” Her gravelly voice filled the cab of the car. “Would you like me to tell you that your hair looks great and you should go get him, girl?”
My cheeks heated. “Shut up.” I got out of the car, the cool night air instantly making me feel better. I had a job to do. And lives to save.
Kailen watched me approach, his hands in the pockets of his pea coat, his expression blank. Most of the Sidhe tended toward breathtakingly beautiful, but Kailen seemed to have a leg up on most of the Sidhe. His dark brown hair was slightly mussed; it ruffled with a breeze. Hazel eyes locked onto mine, and though I was determined not to look away, it seemed as though he’d made the same decision. My steps felt wobbly, unsure. He, on, the other hand, looked unfazed.
It wasn’t fair.
I stopped on the other side of his car, glad for the huge lump of steel and rubber between us. “I found some unicorn-purified water,” I said. “I’m going to take it up to him, but I think we should ward the place anyways, in case the guy who started this whole thing decides to come back.”
“Good idea,” Kailen said. “I’ll work on that.”
I brushed past, my breath held, Anwynn on my heels. Together, we started up the wooden front porch of Chris’s home.
“That was a little cold,” she said as Kailen disappeared around the corner of the house. “A little distant. You haven’t spoken to him in a month.”
“Really?” I said as I knocked on the door. “You have an opinion on this, too? I don’t see you dating anyone.”
“Oh,” Anwynn said. “Is that what people call it nowadays? I’d guess that you two are just very uncomfortable bedfellows.”
“Were. Once.” Why was I telling my hound this? I didn’t regret what had happened between Kailen and me. I was just stuck in the weird position of not actually dating him because of his baggage and mine—yet still having to be around him because he was the only other Sidhe I knew that lived in the mortal world. “Maybe we should have just stayed friends.”
“Were you ever just friends?”
I tried not to think about how I’d practically jumped Kailen the first time I’d met him—and I hadn’t even been divorced then. Sure, I’d been under the influence of magic, but I hadn’t been under that influence when I’d decided to sleep with him. I threw up my hands. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty or…something. Quiet, I can hear someone coming.”
Chris opened the door, bleary-eyed and in a fuzzy bathrobe. The wispy hair on the top of his head stood on end; his glasses slipped to the bottom of his nose. He had a tumbler of what looked like whiskey in his right hand. I watched the sleepiness drip away from his face like a melting icicle, leaving only cold realization in its place. “This isn’t over, is it?”
“It will be,” I said, taking the vial from my pocket. “Also, don’t be alarmed, but there’s a guy walking around your house right now. He’s going to keep that cloaked man from coming back for you. Now hold still.”
I uncorked the vial and poured some of the water into my palm. The skin there tingled. It felt a bit like holding a handful of minty, effervescent water. I slapped the hand to his cheek, trying not to lose any of the precious droplets. His stubble was rough against my skin as I rubbed it into his face. I cleared my throat. “Do you…remember anything else about the cloaked man?”
Chris’s brow furrowed. “I told you everything I know.”
“Did the man say anything else?” He didn’t resist at all when I took each of his hands and rubbed the water into his fingers. “Just ‘take him’ and that was all?”
His eyes grew fuzzy, distant. “Actually, I think he might have said something else, but I was passing out from that powder at the time. I think he said, ‘She will be pleased.’” Chris shook his head. “I can’t be sure, though. I mean, I was being knocked unconscious.”
I reached for the ope
ning of his robe.
“Whoa, whoa,” he said, coming to life. “I’m married to a woman I love very much. I’m not interested.”
“I’m not trying to—”
He slapped my hands away. “That’s quite enough, thank you.”
A step creaked behind me. “And I thought we had something special,” Kailen said from behind me. His tone was light, but I think the words held more meaning than he’d first intended. He’d told me once that I was special, that he hadn’t felt this way about someone since his wife had passed away.
I thrust the vial at him. “You do it, then.”
“Sir,” Kailen said, his voice cool and professional, “I’m just going to open your robe a little and put some of this water over your heart. This is the last step and this will all be over for you. Can I do that?”
I stalked from the porch, my hand going to the stone in my pocket. It was warm to the touch, from more than just my body heat. Anwynn leapt gracefully over the steps, her lanky form a comforting presence at my side, much as I hated to admit it.
I’d saved Chris from a horrible death, and I had one of the cloaked man’s ingredients, but I wasn’t any closer to figuring out his identity, or why exactly he wanted to enact a daemon geas in the first place. Yes, he could potentially gain more power—but what did he want to do with that power?
“So what’s stopping our cloaked friend from grabbing another mortal off the streets?” Anwynn said. Behind us, the bushes rustled as Kailen set his ward.
“That’s easy,” I said, assuming a confident tone I didn’t exactly feel. “You. And me.”
“The dynamic duo?” Anwynn raised one doggy eyebrow at me.
I lifted a hand and chopped it through the air, adopting a singsong tone. “I’m faster than lightning. You’re very, very frightening. Together, we will, I don’t know, something that rhymes with lightning.” I ventured another glance at my hound and found her regarding me with the sort of uncertainty she usually reserved for salads. I sighed. “Don’t tell me you don’t watch Saturday morning cartoons. I can hear them from my room, you know. It comes right through the vents. Something about ponies?”
Changeling on the Job: A Changeling Wars Novella Page 4
