Held by Magic_A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy

by LJ Swallow

  I nod then tuck the weapon into my jacket with muttered thanks. He strokes my hair and stands. Morgan appears with a limping dog. Dex’s muzzle bleeds where I slashed at him. He limps too and he looks straight at me. I can imagine the argument we’ll have once he’s Dex again.

  "Isn't Spot shifting back?" I ask.

  "Dex. And no. Not unless you want him walking naked through the streets." Cillian holds up a bundle of shredded clothes. "He wasn’t planning on shifting. Again."

  "Yeah, well, if he walks through the streets looking like that I'm damn sure he'll draw as much attention." I jab a finger at the demonic hound. "Morgan, can you open a portal?"

  He shakes his head. "No ley lines near here. I thought there might be since we're near a warlock's place, but they must channel magic from elsewhere."

  "Shit." I look at Dex. "I was okay until Spot attacked me."

  Dex looks up and growls.

  "Who was the guy?" asks Cillian.

  "I don’t know," I retort. "I was dealing with the situation. I would’ve found out."

  "Or he could have abducted and killed you."

  "Or both," puts in Morgan.

  "Did he phone you and tell you to come here?" I point at Dex and narrow my eyes. "Did you?"

  Yeah, look at me talking to Dex like he can reply. I should’ve bloody suspected why he wanted to wait behind for a few minutes: it was ‘phone a friend’ time.

  "Of course, he did. You were insane going into a warlock’s place in the middle of the night. You had no idea what you were facing."

  "I would've been okay. Dex was with me. I only wanted to talk to Dana." I pull at my ripped hoodie and the skin on my back stings as the fabric moves across. "I can’t believe Dex called you. How did you arrive this quick?"

  Cillian nods at Dex. "He followed you, we followed him."

  "Not my favourite way to spend the night, especially after the evening we just had." Morgan touches his face to emphasise what he means.

  "You’re not that badly hurt," retorts Cillian. "You can walk."

  I snap my head up to catch Morgan glower at his friend. "Why bother helping anyway? I thought I was too much trouble?"

  Cillian pushes at Morgan who mumbles, "Sorry."

  I widen my eyes. "Sorry?"

  "I kinda lost my shit. After the attack at the cemetery."

  "And you didn’t respond well, Syv. You’re both to blame." I burst out laughing at Cillian’s words. "What?"

  "You sound like you’re our dad."

  Both guys fight smiles.

  "I’m a peacemaker," he says.

  Morgan’s smile grows. "He thinks he’s the boss, but I doubt he ever will be."

  Cillian nudges me. "I’d have no chance of bossing you, if you came back. You’d keep us all in check."

  I meet Morgan’s eyes and he nods. "I mean it, I’m sorry. I think we can help each other."

  "With our business arrangement?"

  Morgan holds a hand out to shake and I take hold. His fingers curl tight around mine and he tugs me towards him. I step closer.

  "If you want to keep things businesslike. But I don’t want to miss out on being part of Syv’s harem," he whispers. "So, I need to keep her alive."

  "You mean you need my skills?"

  Our fingers remain locked together and Morgan grazes his lip with his teeth. "I don’t think I’ve seen all the interesting ones yet."

  "Are you trying to use your smoulder skill to persuade me to come back to the Institute with you?" I laugh at him.

  He releases my hand and his eyes shine. "Maybe. Look, I’m sorry. Let’s try again."

  Dex gives a low whine and paws at the ground. I catch his meaning. "Can we just leave now? Do you have a car?"

  Keys jingle in Cillian's hands as he pulls them from his pocket. "Yeah, we parked two streets away. Trying to stay inconspicuous." He steps over me. "I'll go and fetch the car."

  "I don't want to wait here. I'll come. Morgan can stay with Spot in case someone else appears."

  Dex growls at me again and I snicker at him. As I head along the side of the house with Cillian, he scolds me. "Don't tease Dex. He's a sensitive guy."

  I'm about to retort but Cillian's words are true. From what Dex has hinted about his earlier life, there's a vulnerability hidden behind the large, sometimes-canine, dude. "Sorry. He pissed me off charging in like that. I told him to wait until I called."

  "You know he's protective of you." Our footsteps echo sound along the quiet street and we pass the bus stop I left behind with Dex. I make a humph sound. "We all are."

  I halt and look at him. "Kicking me out of your team isn't very protective."

  "We didn't kick you out. There were things we needed to straighten out. Do you usually run from conflict like that?"

  "Yes, if I think it might threaten my life."

  Cillian shakes his head and the soft sadness crosses his face again. He places both hands on the top of my arms and holds me to look him in the face. "We're no threat to you. You're important to us."

  "Because I complement your skills?"

  "Because you deserve to live a life as part of something and not on the edge. You fit in with us."

  I shrug him off and keep walking. I've spent time around misfits before. People always have their own agendas. They never care if I'm a stepping stone to achieve their goals. I chew on my lip as I walk away. Apart from Col—he never stepped on me to push me below the water on his journey to what he wants. Is it possible others could see me and care for me?

  We find Cillian’s Jeep and drive to the Collector's place without any issues, apart from the size and smell of Dex. Worried I'll upset him, I subtly cover my nose with my ripped hoodie sleeve and look out the window. He doesn't smell ‘dog bad’ but a sulphur scent that turns my stomach. He spends the journey crouched on the seat, but that doesn't hide his bulk from the passenger window.

  The Victorian house always stands out in its corner beside the heath. The building is set back and private behind the low metal fence. Front gardens with tall trees hide the building’s facade. Col lives on a suburban street, but not as part of one.

  I step out the car and shiver in the breeze. Lights shine through the curtains in the lounge room I sat in earlier, but the windows upstairs are dark. Is Col awake? How will he react to my guests? I gesture at Cillian to lower the driver's window.

  I lean in and glance into the back. "I think you should bring Dex inside. He's bleeding all over your seats, and we're a long way from the Institute."

  Morgan stares at Col’s house. "Do you think we'll be welcome? I’ve heard how powerful this fae is."

  "No. Not at all welcome." I laugh. "Especially as I told Col what dickheads you've been to me."

  "Oh. Nice." Cillian kills the engine and climbs out. "Thanks for that, Syv."

  "Dex should wait here until we’ve spoken to your friend," says Morgan. "Do you know how he’ll react to him as Spot?"

  "I honestly don’t know. But good point. We’d shouldn’t march up to the door with a demonic dog in tow." I crane my head. "Are you okay to wait a few minutes, Dex?"

  Dex rubs at his muzzle with a paw and whines. The blood streaks across his fur and I take a deep breath. Fine, make me feel guilty, Dex.

  Morgan joins me and Cillian outside the car. I fold a hand around the key in my pocket and pad up the garden path. A soft light shines blues and reds through semi-circle stained glass above the front door.

  My two friends move to one side, half-hidden in the shadows. I hesitate with the key held towards the lock. No. I should knock.

  Nothing happens for a few minutes before footsteps echo and the door opens wide. Col stands with the light from the house framing his tall figure. He takes up extra space due to his added attitude and important aura as he frowns at me.

  "Why not use your key, Syv?" he asks. Cillian moves closer to me and Col turns his head with a frown as Morgan joins us in the light. "Oh. Who's this?"

  "My friends."

  Col qu
ietly appraises them, taking too long to make the situation comfortable. "These men are an interesting and unusual choice for your bed, Syv."

  "Not for the night," I protest. "I really don't have time and energy for that shit right now."

  Col’s words create a greater awareness of the men flanking me. I have to be totally honest here and say if I’d randomly met each of these guys in more pleasant circumstances, I’d say yes.

  "We also have an injured friend in the car," says Cillian in a smooth and even tone. "Syv thought you could help us."

  "Yeah, an unusual friend named Spot," I put in.

  Col's mouth parts. "Spot? Where did you find him? Or has he found you?"

  "Long story. He's hurt. Can the guys come inside?"

  Col taps his fingers on his lips and again scrutinises Cillian, and then Morgan. He points at Morgan. "I don't like your magic, wizard."

  "I won't use it."

  Col places an arm across the doorway, blocking the entrance. "Your magic goes against nature. You shouldn’t manipulate the world’s fabric. It’s dangerous."

  I step forward and push at Col. He doesn’t budge. "Can we have this discussion inside. Morgan promises not to use any magic, don't you?"

  I don't pause for his response and push at Col again. With a sigh, he allows me to pass.

  "Get Dex, Cillian."

  "And who's Dex?" asks Col. "How many of you are there?"

  "Spot."

  Col grabs my arm. "Okay. What's happening? Your clothes are torn and you have blood on your clothes again. I'm not allowing these people inside if they're responsible for your current state."

  "Please, Col. Let them in." Col’s eyes widen further. Yes, I said ‘please’.

  He cocks his head. "If there is trouble, Syv, I am holding you accountable. Don’t play dangerous games."

  "With you? Ha. I learned not to years ago."

  Col sweeps a hand and says to the guys, "Fine. Enter."

  Cillian steps through the door, looking cautiously around him at the fae symbols painted in pictures on the wall. Knots made from wrought metal. Do any of these affect him the way they do others? "Morgan will try to sneak Dex in without anybody seeing him."

  Morgan ducks back out, and I stand, awkwardly, as if we’re three people meeting who have no idea what to say. I still have plenty to say, and I recognise Col's suspicion. This switches to alarm on his face as Morgan and Dex enter the hallway.

  "I cannot believe I'm allowing these three creatures in here," he mutters.

  Cillian's mouth hardens and I shoot him a warning look. Dwellers. Supernatural creatures. But to me, he's a short step away from human.

  "Kitchen." Col points in the direction, the part of the house distinct from his quiet rooms filled with personal effects. Usual visitors are only allowed in here, and upstairs is 'verboten'.

  The room fits a table large enough to seat twelve people, but rarely does. The modern kitchen is filled with brushed metal appliances, and the visible shelves are stacked with bottles and boxes of substances I'm sure Dana would like to get her hands on. If she’s still alive.

  Sliding glass doors lead to the garden, currently dark and surrounded by hedges. Total privacy.

  Dex's claws clatter on the tiles as he follows. I almost—almost—make a comment about how useful that Col has a garden Dex could use if needed. But I decide sarcasm won't help the tense situation.

  In the stronger light, the amount of blood on his brown muzzle is clearer. He limps toward Cillian and doesn’t look at me.

  "I can't help him, if that's what you’re thinking." Col steps away from the dog, his mouth curling with distaste. "I don't know how to heal demons."

  "You heal me and I have demon blood." He means he doesn't want to touch Dex, I bet.

  "Take him to the bathroom," Col says to Morgan and indicates the stairs. "I'll make these gentlemen a drink. I have some questions for them."

  I nod, but a thought strikes. "Uh. Dex needs clothes. Were there any in the car, Morgan?"

  Morgan shakes his head. "Not today. Dex forgot to put extra spare in after he shifted outside the other day."

  "This man shifts in public?" Col fails to hide his shock. This is new to me—the Collector losing his cool.

  "No. Not often unless it’s an emergency." Morgan looks at me. "Twice recently, both times to save Syv."

  I turn away. Stop trying to bloody 'save' me.

  25

  I wait with Cillian as Col disappears to find clothes, taking Morgan and Dex with him. Cillian stares around the room, eyes darting from item to item on the shelves, like a kid in a toyshop. He doesn’t speak, so I step out the room.

  Col strides along the hall and hands me clean clothes for Dex, along with a dubious look. "I'm trusting them because you do," he says softly. "But they can’t stay."

  "Once Dex is sorted, we'll leave for the Institute."

  "You can stay here if you need."

  He's earnest and the Col who wants to keep me safe pushes to his surface again. I point at my arm. "I can't waste time, Col."

  His brow furrows deeper than I usually see. "I'm sorry that I can't help. I’ve never heard of these marks until a few weeks ago and have no idea how to cure them."

  I place a hand on his bare arm and squeeze. "You've helped me many times. More than I deserve. You're helping me by assisting these guys."

  He scratches an eyebrow. "I will reserve judgement, but I saw how upset you were earlier. You trust them, then you don’t, and now you trust them again."

  I swallow away the denial. "My pride was in the way. I overreacted."

  "Pride?" Col tips his head. "There's nothing wrong with pride."

  "I thought so too." I squeeze his arm. "I'll tell you the whole story soon. I promise, but first—" I wave a hand upstairs. "I'll sort Dex and we can be out of your hair."

  "What happened to make him shift?"

  "I met someone else tonight, Col."

  "My, you have been busy," he says with a small smile. "Another Dweller?"

  "Just some dude who wanted to talk to me. It was nothing." I attempt to hide that I’m lying. Am I fooling him? "Dex overreacted."

  Col pulls at his bottom lips. "’Some dude’. Did he hurt you?"

  "No. He’s probably connected to all this somehow. We’ll deal with it."

  Col leans forward and his nose almost touches mine. "What are you hiding? When did we start to hide things from each other?"

  My pulse quickens. "Col. Please. I’m trying to figure this all out, one thing at a time."

  His hand curls around the back of my head, the way he does sometimes. The first time he did this, I accused him of trying to read my mind. Since then, I’ve realised he does it when we need to diffuse tension.

  "But you will tell me everything?" I nod. "And it appears Spot is definitely not a hellhound?"

  "No."

  He gives a small laugh and let’s my head go. "I'm curious to see what he looks like when he's Dex."

  "Similar. Large and scary."

  "How large?" He gestures at the bundle in my arms. "Will the clothes fit?"

  A memory of naked Dex reappears in my mind’s eye. "Large. But these are baggy."

  "Bring him to me once he’s… normal. I need to hear what happened tonight."

  As Col strides back toward the kitchen I call after him, "Go easy on them. They're good guys."

  Col throws me one of his knowing smiles. "Yes. I sense that. Otherwise they wouldn't be in my house."

  I look up to where Morgan stands at the top of the carpeted steps, beside a small table with violets in a glass vase. Another stained-glass window casts a strange rainbow across the surroundings.

  Morgan wipes hands on his jeans, leaving wet handprints. Blood still smears his clothes from helping Dex, and guilt swirls in my stomach.

  "Is Dex okay?"

  "Yeah. He will be. We need to find out who that guy in the room was, though."

  I cock a brow. "Top of my priority list. I really wish I’d h
ad more time to talk to him."

  "I’m not arguing with you again," sighs Morgan. "But things could’ve taken a bad turn. He had you locked in a magic trap. Did he tell you his name?"

  I look over his head, to avoid the argument he’s talking about. "No. Can we sort Dex out before the interrogation, please?"

  He holds his hands out for the bundle in my arms. "Want me to give those to Dex?"

  "I need to talk to him." I pause and rub the spare shirt sleeve between my fingers. "My turn for an apology."

  "Look at us, all mature and shit," says Morgan.

  I laugh. "Aren’t we?" A thought strikes me. "Is Dex naked?"

  Morgan shakes his head with a wry smile. "Dude, he wouldn't shift back in front of me unless he had to. The Dex in the bathroom was still a dog when I walked out. Take him those clothes and the poor guy can leave his canine self behind."

  "Is he okay? His face and leg looked messed up."

  "I stopped the bleeding and I don’t think the leg’s too bad. He just landed awkwardly when the guy threw him."

  I nod and make to pass Morgan, but he places a hand on my arm. "I need to talk to you and explain more why I reacted how I did."

  Of the three guys, this one looks the most human, and his intense look could charm his fair share of girls if he perfected it. That and if he dropped the attitude. Morgan’s correct about their shared bond. But the more time that passes, I see this isn’t only between the three of them, but the four of us. We're all people surrounded by walls built from suspicion and past hurt. Is this vulnerability something that could bond us in an unlikely way, or will this stand in our way?

  "I half-understand, but I'd like to know more. Thank you."

  When Morgan's face transforms into shock at my calm, measured response I burst out laughing at him. His face morphs further into disbelief.

  "Was it the 'thank you' that confused you?" I ask.

  "Yeah. And the implied forgiveness."

  "Don't go too far now. I never said that."

  There's something freeing about a smile—from both of us—and Morgan nods. I wait for him to elaborate, but he says nothing before he walks away.