Remnants of Magic
by
S. A. Archer
and
S. Ravynheart
Ravynheart Publishing
Scanning, uploading and distributing this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Remnants of Magic
Copyright 2013 by S. A. Archer
Cover Art Copyrighted 2013 by Ravynheart Publishing
Image Copyright conrado, 2013 Used under license from Shutterstock.com
http://www.sidhetouch.com
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Scanning, uploading and/or distributing this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Introduction
A Quick Lay of the Land
The Sidhe series takes place in the modern world, where most humans are unaware of the magical and paranormal beings living among them. ‘The fey’ are all the races of beings that come from the fey realm, known as ‘the Mounds’, and we base them loosely on Celtic mythology. These include elves, fairies, dwarves, Brownies, Changelings, goblins and many other races. Among the fey, the most magical, and therefore the ruling class, are the noble elves. They are also called ‘the Sidhe’, pronounced ‘shee’. Because the Sidhe are so powerful, all other fey are known as ‘lesser fey’ by comparison.
To some degree, all fey have the ability to teleport and use Glamour, which is a magical illusion usually used to disguise oneself or to hide something. In addition to this, the Sidhe as a race possess a common magic known as ‘the Touch’, which is a form of sharing magic. The Touch is a bonding and beautiful experience for the Sidhe, and is a gift when presented to lesser fey. However, the Touch is dangerous to humans, who become forever addicted to the magic. Touched humans will need to have that magic replenished every few weeks, or they suffer the same withdrawal symptoms as drug addicts, and they will eventually be driven insane by the need. Besides teleportation, Glamour, and the Touch, each Sidhe possesses a single ‘aspect of magic’ which dictates how their personal magic will manifest. For example, Lugh’s aspect of magic is the sun, so he can produce light and heat, encourage the growth of plants, manipulate fire, and so forth.
The Sidhe have always been divided into two philosophically opposed courts. The Seelie Court, also known as the Light Court, values civilization, pageantry, beauty, and subtle intrigues. They are all about the presentation of chivalry and gallant performances, regardless of what truth may lie beneath the lovely facade. The Unseelie Court, also known as the Dark Court, doesn’t waste effort on pretending to be anything other than what they are. They are blunt and to the point. They embrace freedom, individuality, and are headstrong in their dislike of all that is ‘fake’ about the Seelie.
The predators hunting the fey include vampires and werewolves, who find the magic-laced blood and flesh intoxicating. There is also a sect of humans known as wizards who have discovered ways to strip captive fey of magic, usually killing them in the process, to power their own enchantments.
In the very back of the book is a glossary and a pronunciation guide for the more unusual fey names.
We hope that this little introduction gives you a framework for understanding, as we begin our tale…
Enchanted
Chapter One
(This story begins on the same day as the first few scenes in
Bloodhound: Rise of the Unseelie #4)
London wasn’t looking for Mr. Right. Not even Mr. Right Now. No, she searched for someone much more special than that. More unique. She searched for someone with that special Touch. The Touch she craved. The Touch she would die without.
Most humans cursed with this particular addiction died lonely, miserable deaths. But London wasn’t most humans. She wouldn’t go out that way.
Six weeks.
For six weeks she’d scrounged for every lead. Hit up favors from every underworld scum, fey or otherwise. Promised some disgusting favors to others, if they could point her in the right direction.
Six weeks of total agony. The need… the longing… twisted within her, becoming more and more unbearable with each breath. Finding a Sidhe wasn’t an option. It meant her life and her sanity.
But finding this special someone was only the first problem. The second… well, that’s what the gun was for.
So when she spotted tall, dark, and Sidhe slipping out of the curtain of Glamour that disguised the entrance to a fey-only club, London trailed him. She knew how to tail a suspect, not that this fellow taxed her skill set. He glanced up from his smartphone just often enough to navigate.
To the uninitiated, this particular Sidhe could pass for human. A really sexy human male. The kind of sexy that made you stare. The kind of drop dead gorgeous Hollywood would pay millions for, but could only achieve after hours in a make-up chair and with careful camera angles and creative lighting. There was simply no such thing as an unattractive Sidhe. Heck, there was no such thing as a kind-of good-looking Sidhe. They were all— every last cursed one of them— too damned sexy for anyone’s good.
So that was one reason London hadn’t a single doubt that her prey was Sidhe.
The rugby jersey, the jeans, the trainers, none of it fooled her for a second. He moved with the fluid grace of a dancer, covering ground easily on those long, sexy legs of his. London spoiled herself, admiring his gorgeous bum as she followed. Those jeans fit him wicked perfectly.
The enjoyment lasted only a few blocks, where he passed from the sparsely populated industrial area to a street lined with shops. The Sidhe ducked into the music store. London paused outside, watching him through the window as he flipped through CDs. She smiled to herself. That should occupy him just long enough.
Within five minutes, she parked her car along the Sidhe’s route. London squeezed the steering wheel, but her hands still trembled. Every second telescoped with impatient agony as she glared at the empty street. Where is he? What if he doesn’t come back this way? The earthborns, the young and inexperienced Sidhe, didn’t often stray from the club. There was no telling how long she’d have to wait for another opportunity. “Come on, now,” she murmured. “You’ve jerked me around long enough.”
The Sidhe turned the corner two blocks down, heading her way. London stared at him, transfixed by the perfection of his body and the promise of his magic, both lethal obsessions. Snapping herself out of her daze, she accused him, “You did this to me.” Maybe not this guy in particular, but one of his kind. They didn’t care, these Sidhe. None of them cared. Just like Rico, who cursed her so she’d work for him. Just like the dark-eyed Sidhe whose name she didn’t even know, but who’d sent her and the other hapless humans he controlled off on a doomed temple raid, to slaughter or be slaughtered. The
y just didn’t care. None of these Sidhe cared.
They’d meant to enslave her with this curse. Time for them to pay the price. Time for her to take control again.
The Sidhe carried a small shopping bag, his attention focused on the CD case in his hand, reading as he walked.
London slipped unnoticed from her vehicle and circled around the rear bumper, out of his line of sight. As she peeked over the car, her hand slipped into her blazer pocket. She’d have to time it just right. When the Sidhe passed the front bumper, London moved.
Not every private investigator was trained in hand-to-hand combat. In truth, London hadn’t done much herself until she’d begun to specialize in parahuman cases, those involving former humans who’d become either vamps or weres. Even now, she’d still be considered a novice. But what skills she did possess, coupled with the element of surprise and the determination of her addiction, inspired her body to flow almost without her conscious effort.
As she strolled past the Sidhe, he glanced up and flashed a smile so brilliant that she couldn’t help but blush as she smiled back. Certainly, the Sidhe never expected her to catch his wrist as she ‘brushed’ against him. The click of the handcuff snapping into place caught his attention, too late though. London spun in behind him, jerking back the wrist she’d snared and grabbing his other arm before he could fathom what she meant to do. Just after she locked the second cuff into place, London kicked him in the back of the knee, forcing him to kneel before her.
“What the bloody hell are you playing at?” the Sidhe yelled over his shoulder, struggling against the bonds.
With a handful of his incredibly silky hair, she arched his head back. The muzzle of her gun pressed to his temple. “This is the part where you come with me,” she said, her voice low and direct.
“Are you insane?”
Certainly a rhetorical question, but she snapped, “If I am, it’s all your fault, Sidhe!” She released his hair to reach over and open the door. “Now get in!”
He closed his eyes. Winced hard.
London bent close to his ear and whispered, “You’re not teleporting anywhere with those silver handcuffs you’re wearing.”
He twisted around, maybe trying to look at her, maybe attempting to wiggle away from her. It didn’t matter. He managed to plant one foot on the ground in his struggle and London used the moment when he was off balance to shove him, with all her weight behind him, right into the backseat. He dove in head first. When he rolled back up to a sitting position she had the seatbelt ready. With the gun jammed in the hollow of his throat, forcing him to lean back, she reached across and belted the restraint into place. She backed out of the car and slammed the door. Snatching him from the street hadn’t even taken a full minute.
London hopped into the driver’s seat, diagonal from the Sidhe. The gun she tucked into the pocket on the door, where she could retrieve it quickly. She sped off. The only evidence that he’d ever even been there was the CDs, scattered and abandoned on the ground.
Chapter Two
“So wizards, right?”
London cut a glance at the Sidhe in her rearview mirror. Their gazes met. His held hers as if by some force, though the silver he wore prevented him from using any magic on her. So mystifyingly handsome. Staring at him made her want to stare longer. To fall into those eyes. To beg for the Touch she craved beyond reason. To submit herself to him, weeping with longing. And if she thought for one quarter of a second that he might have shown her the mercy of his Touch, she might have done just that.
She tore her attention away from his reflected perfection and corrected her driving, narrowly avoiding striking an oncoming car. Cursing under her breath, she gripped the wheel harder as if that might help her focus, as if by the sheer force of her will she could hold the shattered pieces of her soul together.
“I knew it,” he announced, conversationally. “They said the old enchantments would begin to crumble without the Mounds. Guess they were right. So now what? You’re going to spirit me off to England, I suppose.”
“I’m not a wizard.” London hunched against the sound of his voice. She should tell him to be quiet. Or find a place to pull off and gag him. If she were smart, that’s exactly what she’d do. Instead, she kept driving. She’d never admit to herself that she hoped he would say something else, that she liked the musical way his voice resonated to the very core of her being. Not for anything would she admit to herself that she longed for him to murmur into her ear something romantic or lustful. She shifted in the seat, as if trying to arrange herself more comfortably, when really she struggled to stay in the seat at all, when she desired nothing more than to climb into the backseat with this Sidhe.
“You work for them then, right?” As they slowed for a red light the Sidhe suddenly threw himself against the door, which didn’t open for him even, though it rocked the car. He shouted at a pair of pedestrians. “Hey! Call the police! I’m being kidnapped!”
London stomped on the gas, cutting a hard turn onto the cross street. The tires spun, leaving a trail of rubber on the pavement. Traffic had been light enough that they’d cleared the illegal turn without incident. Likely, the pedestrians hadn’t heard him through the closed window, but still, London’s heart slammed in her chest. “I don’t work for wizards!” she shouted at him, and technically, that claim was true. She’d worked for wizards one time, before she learned what they were like. But then she’d betrayed them once, so karmically speaking, that should have balanced things.
“Then who?” He kicked the back of the passenger seat. “Let me go!”
“Stop it!” she hollered over her shoulder, not daring to look. “What’s your name?”
“Kieran,” he snapped out.
“You ever heard of a Sidhe named Rico, Kieran?” London sped up to make the turn into the roundabout, earning herself an angry blare of a horn from the car she’d cut off.
“No,” he grumbled. London risked a quick glance in the rearview mirror. The Sidhe watched out the window, maybe trying to remember the route, or more likely looking for some chance to catch someone’s attention. Just as he turned back, she tore her eyes away, not wanting to risk getting caught up in his gaze again. “Wait. He was the one killed by Changelings, right?”
London pressed down harder on the accelerator as they pulled onto the M9. “Before he got himself killed, Rico cursed me.”
“You’re lucky I’ve not started cursing at you!” He kicked the passenger side seat again. Fortunately, he couldn’t get a good angle on her seat. “Look, I don’t give a crap about your issues with some bloke I’ve never even met.”
“Not cursing at me! He cursed me!” she yelled over her shoulder at him. “Cursed, Kieran, as in the Touch.”
The silence from the backseat lingered. And then Kieran leaned forward as far as the seatbelt would allow, bringing his face only a foot or so away from her. The very proximity made her pulse surge. If she released her death grip on the steering wheel, she’d caress his face. His voice, so near, stroked over her and her body reacted with lust. “You mean he enchanted you with the Touch?”
“Cursed is a more accurate term, trust me.”
From the corner of her eye she saw him shaking his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense?” London shifted. She felt him looking at her, studying her. Among humans, London estimated that she passed for ‘pretty,’ but by the standards of the fey, she was probably downright homely. Kieran was so handsome and utterly yummy. By all accounts, the fey were as casually sexual as vampires and werewolves. She didn’t even want to begin to guess how many beautiful fey women he’d entertained. The very thought of it left her feeling even more inadequate and hopeless. And yet, his eyes on her now excited a possibility she knew could never be. No way he looked upon her and liked what he saw, no matter how much she wanted that. And then again, she had kidnapped him, so any daydream of romance that the stupid curse coiled within her was wasted effort. She’d burned that
bridge when she went for her gun and handcuffs, because despite the lies the curse planted in her mind, no Sidhe was ever going to fall for a human. And these feelings bubbling up inside were lies. She didn’t know this man and didn’t care about him, so she certainly didn’t love him. She craved not so much his magic for some fantasy of romantic fulfillment, as the relief from the torment of agonizing desire.
“If you’re enchanted then you’re supposed to be good. Nice, you know? Helpful.”
London burst out laughing. “What?”
“You’re lying.” Kieran dropped back into the seat.
“I’m not lying.”
“Then you don’t know what you’re talking about. If you’d ever really been Touched you’d not act like this. Not to a Sidhe. No way. No how.”
London laughed again. “Enlighten me, then. How would I be acting?”
“The Touch is the most amazing feeling. Beyond anything you can imagine. If you’d really been Touched, you’d feel too good to even think about hurting one of us. You’d love us. Be devoted to us. Do anything I asked. Fall to your knees before me begging to serve me, like those druids used to do. You most certainly wouldn’t be kidnapping me and you’d have to let me go when I told you to.”
“That’s what you want, isn’t it? Enchanted, indeed! Enslaved is what you really mean. Humans are nothing to you, to any of you!” London shouted. “Well, this is one human who isn’t playing by your rules. I won’t kiss your feet while you walk all over me.”
Kieran slumped down more into his seat. “I’ve been snatched by a complete nutter. Brilliant.”
“I didn’t start this. It’s not my fault,” London assured herself as much as the Sidhe. “I’m just doing what I have to in order to survive.”
Remnants of Magic (The Sidhe Collection (Urban Fantasy)) Page 1
