Immersed in Faerie (Stolen Magic Book 4)

by WB McKay

  "How the hell am I going to narrow my crew to just five?" grumbled Tattered Vest.

  A thought occurred to me as Tattered Vest walked away. I could just arrest her and nip this whole competition thing in the bud. As soon as the idea formed, I discarded it. The pirates hadn't done anything illegal that I was aware of. Even if they managed to get their hands on the Fleece, it wasn't officially on a MOD warrant. I'd never get a warrant for an object considered to be fictional.

  No, I would have to beat the pirates to the treasure. "Narrow down her group?" I mumbled. "That's a nice problem to have."

  Well, at least it was a problem. She would work on her problems, and I would work on mine. Team members. People. Where was I going to get me some of those?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Art and I slumped into his tiny Smart car and I heaved a sigh. My wound needed some attention, but first I needed to make a plan. "You don't have to be in it for the rest of this madness," I told him. I needed him. He knew that. I would need every number I could get, and Art was… Art. I needed him on this. But it would be so much better for him if he wasn't.

  He was nodding before I'd even finished my sentence. "I'm in it. You don't have to tell me what my options are. We have to stop this Supervillain from getting his hands on that Fleece." He gave me his usual smile. "Besides, I can't just sit around knowing my friend is out there saving the world while I'm working my routine."

  My head spun as the enormity of what he'd said caught up with me. It might have been a small overstatement that we were trying to save the world, but this thing was big. I was in way over my head. "So, what do we do now?" I asked. I'd normally have pushed my own ideas first, but he was right. This was big. Bigger than me. I needed more voices. "How do we assemble this team?"

  "The same way we always do. We go to Hammond and request some agents."

  I didn't like it, but it was also what I'd been thinking. Selling this plan to my boss was going to be tough. "Fine, let's go to FAB and get my leg taken care of and then we'll talk to Hammond." I tucked the scroll into my work bag. It was too large to fit in there without folding it, so I let it stick out. Folding what appeared to be an ancient scroll seemed wrong, even if it was likely to be enchanted against damage. Art put the car in gear and we were on our way. "So, we waltz into Hammond's office and demand a team to help us snatch the Golden Fleece before a rogue council member can get his hands on it and try to rule the world. Our chances of success are… what?"

  Art smiled because that's what Art did. It was probably why we got along so well. He wasn't daunted by my attitude. "No, we'll tell him that we are on the trail of a pirate organization hunting down a magical object said to imbue its holder with extraordinary power. We put emphasis on how it sounds like it could be rule-the-world level of power. We don't tell him anything specific."

  "Fae lying."

  "It's a vague status update."

  I shrugged. "Sounds like a plan. Put down the pedal on this little tin can. The adrenaline is wearing off, and this leg is really starting to burn."

  Art ignored the insult to his tiny car and did put on a little more speed. We made it to the FAB medical office in good time, and the healer patched me up. I'd had to give the nature of my injury for official records, so Hammond would hear about it. I hadn't officially been on company time when I'd been injured, so they'd probably take it out of my pay. I never wanted to meet the person whose job it was to sit around and make sure they paid me as little as possible. I could guarantee that person didn't want to meet me, either.

  "Do you have any ideas about who you want on the team?" asked Art as we made our way to Hammond's office.

  I marveled at the lack of pain from the injuries that had been there a few minutes before. As often as I got hurt at work, you'd think I'd use the healers more. They always worked quickly. It still felt like a hassle, though. There was the interacting with people factor, and then dealing with billing. It often seemed better to push through it. It helped that Phoebe, my roommate, had skills in the kitchen. A dryad with potent earth magic, she had the power to soothe many ailments.

  "Sophie?" prompted Art. "Do you have ideas for who you want on the team?"

  "I do," I said. "I'd like to have Ava work on this with us." I observed the slight upward twitch of his mustache. "The creature who gave us the scroll seemed to be… ghost adjacent." He wasn't like anything I'd seen before, but if he wasn't in the ghost column, he was definitely something classified nearby. "Ava might have insight there, which might be valuable, I'm not sure. More usefully, there are bound to be some ghosts around on the mythical quest trail. Not to mention, she could ask ghosts to spy on the pirates. We need to keep tabs on their progress." These were only the ways I could fathom Ava's abilities might be useful. The truth was that Ava surprised me frequently. Talking to ghosts was more valuable than most people recognized. I worried away at my lip. "She's not a sure thing. We'll see if she's busy."

  "You must be very worried about her," he said.

  "Well, she's been through a lot."

  "She has," he agreed. He'd asked about her well-being a few times since Ava had been held captive in a pixie pocket. He didn't know her well--it was the first time I'd introduced them, actually--but she'd been grabbed right in front of us. It had been a bad day. "You'll ask Ava, then. Anyone else?"

  "I'm thinking on it," I told him. We'd arrived at Hammond's office. If we kept talking, I'd lose all sense and try this without MOD approval. I'd been running this investigation so far in my off hours, but there was a line for how far I should go without them. I knew that line was somewhere nearby. Bringing MOD in was wise. On the other hand, well, did I really need to further complicate an already difficult mission with bureaucratic bullshit? Ugh. I knocked on Hammond's door before I gave too much thought to how much better it would be to say "Fuck it".

  "Come in," said Hammond. I used to think I had a feel for Hammond's moods, but I couldn't read his voice anymore. We were in a weird place, which was exactly where I didn't want to be with my boss, but oh well. I didn't know what it was about and I wasn't going to ask him. He didn't look up from his keyboard when we came in. He typed using the hunt and peck method. It was no wonder he was always so behind on performance reviews. He wiped a hand over his face before finally looking up, as if he was already exasperated. I hadn't even said anything yet. "Sit." He made it a harsh command. We did, putting him in his favorite position as he stood to tower over us. I put my bag behind my chair, suddenly aware of the scroll I'd left sticking out of it. "Are you here to explain why you sought medical attention at FAB when you weren't assigned an active recovery?"

  "That, and other things," I said.

  "Let's start with that."

  I took a breath and dived in. It was going to take some very careful wording to get through this meeting without getting into serious trouble. Careful wording was not my favorite thing in life. I explained that I'd become aware of suspicious pirate activity and in the process of following them I had sustained minor injuries, but was doing well. Hammond didn't have much interest in my injuries.

  Hammond drummed his bony fingers on his desk. "You're working a case without prior MOD approval."

  I blew a breath out through my nose. He was testing my temper. I needed to pass the test, but he'd been testing my temper for months now. That stuff builds. "I was doing research." MOD agents were encouraged to seek out cases. Until Owen had been hired, we'd never had a division dedicated to research. Most of the cases we were assigned were found by agents and the contacts they established in the field. As far as he knew, I was doing exactly what I'd been trained to do. So why was he up my ass about it? I'd known he would be. He'd been making excuses to be pissed at me for months. "I wanted to confirm there was an item in need of recovery before I brought the information to MOD."

  "And did you find something compelling?" He rolled his hand in an impatient circle. "Impress me, all mighty Morrigan."

  It took a moment for me to unclench my jaw and sp
eak. "I have a lead that indicates a band of pirates is searching for an extremely powerful object that could help someone seize control of a governing body."

  "Pirates are always in search of some powerful whatsit or another. They never find anything of import to MOD," replied Hammond, leaning back against the wall. "I'd expect you to know that by now."

  "This is different. They already have a set of clues indicating they are on the right path. If we don't form a team and find it first, it is my experienced opinion that they will find it." There. That sounded professional. It shouldn't have been so hard to put together a team and get MOD approval. "I am requesting two agents in addition to Agent Fisk, who has already agreed to help me with this case."

  Hammond's face turned crimson. I guess he wasn't impressed.

  "You want to tie up valuable department resources to hunt an unknown object. This, after you haven't done any work of consequence in the last few weeks?" Guilt must have flashed on my face, because Hammond gave me a predatory grin. "What, you didn't think I would notice? You're doing the absolute minimum, and now you're coming to me with total garbage and asking me to fund it! You're going to be lucky to get out of this office without disciplinary action!"

  I slid my chair back a few inches, intending to rise to my feet and have it out with Hammond. Enough was enough.

  "Agent Hammond," said Art, in the smooth voice I'd come to associate with him flirting. "Sophie is trying to do her job. I expect this will be a big case. It's why I signed on. When you have two of your best agents certain they have something big on the hook, don't you think it's worth looking into?"

  Some of the red drained out of Hammond's face and he sat back down. After a few moments of silence, he nodded. "Yes, Fisk. You're probably right." Art was right? Two of his best agents? That was news to me. Hammond sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. "As usual, this comes down to budgets. FAB is pinching every penny until it squeals right now. Even with more information and concrete evidence, I don't see how I can authorize a team of that size."

  "Four people isn't a large team," I pointed out. He sneered at me. What in the world would he have done if I pointed out that FAB seemed to have the budget for a new research lab? I couldn't tell Hammond I thought he was outright lying, since I wasn't sure he could lie, but this whole meeting had been absurd. "Seriously! What is with the way you are looking at me? I'm trying to recover dangerous magical objects! What are you doing?"

  There was a knock at the door. "Agent Hammond?" said an all-too-familiar voice.

  "Agent Kinney, come in," said Hammond, a smile taking over his face. I couldn't tell if it was because it was Owen at the door, or if he was happy to find a reason to get rid of Art and I. Probably a little of both, but I wouldn't be brushed off that easily.

  Owen looked down at Art and I with what I was sure was feigned surprise. "I can come back later if you're busy," he said, but he didn't turn away.

  "No need," said Hammond, his smile broadening. "We were just finishing up here."

  I leveled a glare at him. "We were not--"

  "Was it about this?" Owen asked, plucking the scroll from my bag and unrolling it. "This is promising. It will take me some time to work through, but it must be a pretty powerful object if there is a quest attached."

  I jumped to my feet, an unintelligible tangle of vowel sounds pouring out of my mouth. I snatched the scroll from Owen and rolled it back up. Hammond was smiling now, he loved Owen, or at least loved the connection to Owen's mother, widely considered to be the unofficial leader of the fae council.

  Art was smiling, too, but I thought that was just his face until he stood and clapped Owen on the shoulder, like they were good old buddies. "We were just discussing the team needed to pursue this further."

  "Well, I'd love to consult on the scroll," said Owen, full of cheerful enthusiasm. "Who will be working with you?"

  I didn't leave Hammond an opportunity to interject. "It will be me, Agent Fisk, Agent-in-training Enid…"

  "Anastas," supplied Art.

  "Enid Anastas and…" I said, leaving it trailing as I looked to Hammond.

  "I think three will be more than enough for the task," said Hammond, his words clipped.

  We'd trapped him. He either had to look like an ass in front of Owen or give me what I wanted. The grin on Owen's face told me he was feeling smug, but I didn't know what for. He hadn't done anything other than take something from me that he had no business touching. I leveled a glare at him. "One of the three of us will be in touch about the scroll." I turned back to Hammond. "If that will be all, Art and I should inform Enid of her assignment and get started."

  Hammond grunted a dismissal.

  I turned on a heel and marched out of the room, my anger at Owen turning red hot when he followed and grabbed my elbow to get my attention. Like I didn't know he was there. I could practically feel the smirk on his face. "Art, you touch base with Enid and remind her that it would be a bad idea for an agent in training to turn down an assignment if she feels so inclined."

  "Sure thing," said Art, giving me a little salute.

  I didn't say another word to Owen until I had marched to his research lab. By the time I spun around and glared at him, his smirk had disappeared entirely. "You," I said, stabbing a finger into his chest. Even in my fury I wanted to run my hands over the muscles there. What was wrong with me? I started my tirade again. "You need to keep to yourself. You have no business taking my personal things without asking me!" I jabbed his chest a few more times, punctuating my words.

  "What?" he asked, ignoring my jabbing finger. He looked genuinely perplexed and that only pissed me off more.

  "You just grabbed the scroll like you owned it," I said, waving it in his face. "It was in my bag!"

  Owen's brows crept up his forehead. "I didn't think you'd mind. And also, you're welcome for helping you with Hammond in there. I could hear him yelling at you from the hall."

  I stepped back and threw my hands in the air. "This is it! This is exactly it!"

  "Uh, what is it?" If his eyebrows climbed any higher they would float away.

  "You make assumptions about what I want and what I think is okay!"

  "Huh?"

  "Argh!" I began to pace. I had to make him understand. I wasn't sure that I understood, but I knew I was onto it. "You assumed I'd want to work a case with you."

  He shrugged. "I can help. I didn't see any reason not to offer my assistance."

  Damn him for sounding so reasonable. "I'm not talking about this case any more. I'm talking about before. When you pulled me in to work on the scepter without even talking to me about it."

  It was Owen's turn to throw his hands up in the air. "It's your job!" Obviously, I wasn't getting through to him.

  I heaved a frustrated sigh. "That wasn't my job! I got pulled into this huge case because of you. I don't work Volarus cases. I work simple jobs, mostly in California."

  "I'm sorry, okay! It's over now." He held out his hands like he wanted to take mine in them.

  I pulled away. "It's not over!" I shouted. I wouldn't have spent the last several weeks researching Mr. Supervillain if it was over. I wouldn't be chasing down the Golden Fleece or racing a group of pirates. Life would be normal and making some kind of sense if Owen hadn't pulled me in on that scepter case. All of this would be someone else's problem. Should be someone else's problem. This was all way over my head, and it was his fault that I was stuck in it. "And now you work here! And you're going to be here all the time, butting into my cases, grabbing my scrolls. I can't even get away from you!"

  Owen deflated like I'd punched him in the gut. "You… want to get away from me?"

  I moved my head around, not exactly shaking it. "I don't know what I want when it comes to you."

  Owen shook his head, a tentative smile quirking up one corner of his mouth. "No. You know." Could he tell I wanted to reach for him even now?

  "It's not that simple." I crossed my arms across my chest to keep them from drift
ing toward him of their own accord. "Just because I want to be around you doesn't mean I should."

  Owen took a step back, his green eyes darkening. "Is this because of my mother?"

  "What?" I asked. His mother was overbearing and controlling, and probably the most powerful woman in Volarus, but she wasn't my problem. "No."

  "Is it because I run Smoke and Mirrors, or my past?" he asked. His eyes were unfocused, coming up with reasons. When he came out of it, his eyes tore through me. "Tell me. Please?"

  "It's because of all of it!" I blew out a breath and started pacing again. It was safer that way. "It's because I don't know enough about you to be trusting you as much as I do! For all I know you're bringing me cheeseburgers to fatten me up so you can eat me." Most modern dragons didn't eat people as far as I knew, but that was the point. I didn't know what I didn't know. "Or something!" I added because my last point already sounded ridiculous to my own ears.

  Owen looked at me, his brow wrinkled in contemplation. He loved trying to solve a mystery. "So this is because I'm a dragon?"

  "This is because I think I love you and I don't know why!" Oh. Shit. There it was. The bottom dropped out of my stomach. "I didn't decide to feel like this. I don't know if I want to. I don't know if I was tricked."

  His faced passed through about five expressions before settling back to confusion. I thought I saw him mouth the word love, and then he said out loud: "Tricked?"

  "I don't know!" I stomped my foot. "I don't know enough about you to be letting you pull me into cases without realizing that's what you're doing. I let you make a choice that changed my whole life and I didn't know it. Because I trust you. And because of that, I don't ask enough questions." Somewhere during my tirade I'd stopped pacing and I couldn't find the right words, so I started up again. "I don't make certain of things when you're around. I just assume you are being honest and telling me everything I need to know. Where I'd normally ask rude questions to get all the details, I stop and consider your feelings. I don't push subjects that I'm sure you don't want to talk about. I end up stupid. I am stupid. I'm handing my whole life over to you and I don't understand why. And I can't stop myself from doing it when you're around."