The Fae's Amulet

by J F Posthumus

  I saw a flash of light to my left, then an antique stand appeared beside my chair, and a cut crystal glass filled with the requested beverage sat atop it.

  Grinning, I admired the glass for a moment before taking a sip. Sighing in contentment, I snuggled into the incredibly comfortable chair. “It’s perfect, Dad. Thanks.”

  “I never take credit for the house, only for giving it life.” His voice was relaxed, but I could hear the amusement at his old joke in it, as well. “British Ale, Victorian era, in the appropriate glass,” my dad instructed. An identical stand appeared, with a medium-tone brew filling the heavy, glass schooner to its crown. Taking his drink, Dad gestured to me and said, “Cheers!”

  “Feeling nostalgic for London?” I asked, lifting my glass. “Cheers!” I replied before taking another sip.

  “Only for that period in London,” my father responded. “I still have to go several times a year, every year, and I have yet to enjoy the city or country as much as I did then.”

  That meant he was really missing my mother. Victorian London was the last good vacation they had together, before my mother had returned to rule her fae kingdom. As queen, it was her duty. They’d had less and less time together since, and fewer vacations, as a result. Whenever my dad drank that bitter brew, in that specific glass, it meant that she and that time weighed on his mind more heavily than usual.

  “Have you seen Mom recently?” I asked quietly, hoping to hide the guilt I suddenly felt for not visiting her last month during the spring equinox.

  The veils between this plane of existence and the planes belonging to the fae, ghosts, hell, and heaven are thinnest and easiest to move between during the equinoxes, solstices and major holidays, such as Christmas, Samhain, and Halloween. The veils also thin during other Gaelic seasonal festivals, but not as much. “Her kingdom is still trying to negotiate peace with the low giants and water folk,” Dad said with a measure of irritation. “It’s the third year for such efforts.”

  “I’ve never been so glad to not be the queen,” I replied. With an impish grin, I added, “I’d offer to help, but I was never good at peaceful negotiations.”

  “She would be better off destroying what they want and demanding they…what’s the phrase…get over it,” Dad replied in a sharp tone.

  “Maybe I can visit sooner than Summer Solstice,” I said thoughtfully.

  Perhaps I could coax Sterling into visiting my mother with me. Traversing the veils any other time than the holidays was difficult, though I had a sort of ‘door’ to my mother’s realm. It worked the same as a literal door, but the Magick behind it was powerful. It allowed me to visit my mother’s realm far easier than most, since it meant I didn’t have to break through the veils using my personal power supply.

  I didn’t want to be away from Sterling for an extended period of time, not after so many decades of being alone.

  Meeting my dad’s eyes over the rim of my glass, I smiled slightly. “But that isn’t why you came back so suddenly and asked me to visit, is it?”

  “We do have the unpleasantness you brought to my attention to discuss. But as the matter brings me into contact with my daughter, I intend to enjoy spending time with you.”

  “I certainly don’t object to spending time with you, Dad,” I replied with a bright smile.

  I paused, not wanting to get all sappy in front of my father. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my father and my mother with all my heart. I missed them terribly, but I didn’t want them to know exactly how much my heart ached from not being around them more.

  I was over three hundred, after all. It wasn’t like I was a solitary hermit. Close to it, maybe, but Dad didn’t need to know that.

  “What do you want to know about Nick?”

  “I remember you had a sort of relationship for a while,” Dad teased, putting just enough menace in his voice to make me snort with laughter. “Perhaps we can begin with how you found out he is using and distributing dragon’s blood?”

  Chuckling, I took a long sip of my drink and leaned to the side until I was resting against the arm of the chair. Setting the glass on the table next to me, I recounted everything that had happened from being hired by Sterling to stopping at Universal Manpower and collecting the information from the receptionist. I didn’t gloss over anything, especially the conversation we had with Nick at the Clocktower. Well, I might have glossed over my attraction for Sterling, since my dad really didn’t need to know about it. Then again, knowing my father, he probably already suspected I was entertaining thoughts of sinful debauchery involving the Consigliere.

  “There was no evidence before this that Nick had been using dragon’s blood?” my father asked after I finished my narrative.

  I shook my head. “Not that I’m aware of, Dad. It’s not like I had anything to do with him prior to finding the dead hooker.” I grinned mischievously. “Besides, if I’d known he was giving mundane humans dragon’s blood, I would’ve told you sooner. I’d do anything to stop his never-ending, horny-teen attempts at trying to convince me to ‘come back’ to him.”

  Dad shuddered. “Ugh. Must you bring that into the conversation?” He emptied his glass and set it on the stand. The schooner began filling up again, from the bottom.

  Shrugging, I downed the last third of my drink. “You did ask, Dad.” I tried to sound repentant, but I was pretty sure the smile in my voice dispelled the illusion. “Just be glad I got wise before anything terrible happened.”

  “That last sentence is open to opposing viewpoints,” he countered, but didn’t continue. “You may be called to offer testimony. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “Nope,” I answered cheerfully. “I’ll try not to be gleeful, if it comes to that.”

  “Oh, be gleeful. The Court proceedings are usually so drab. I swear, most of the accused would beg for death, if they had to spend more than two hours in their presence.”

  I laughed until I was gasping for breath. It was hard to envision my parents as drab and boring. “I’ll remember that. I promise.”

  “Have you eaten?” my dad asked, all business gone from his voice and manner.

  “I grabbed a bite on the way here,” I said reluctantly.

  “Can I persuade you to keep me company while I dine?”

  “You might end up doing more talking than eating,” I teased, toying with my glass which had been refilled.

  “Shall we lounge here? I’m not looking to have a large meal.” He spread his hands and smiled. “We can catch up while I enjoy some finger foods.”

  “That would be lovely,” I replied. “Tell me where you’ve been this year!”

  He laughed. “As you wish.”

  We talked for hours, and not a second of it felt like wasted time.

  * * *

  It was about nine when I finally walked through my front door, and I realized I was happier than I had been in weeks. Seeing my dad and spending time with him had been exactly what I’d needed. There was one thing that could make the evening end on an even better note, but that depended solely on one…person.

  I guess he was a person. He was certainly a ‘he’ and definitely the type that attracted my attention.

  As I put my purse and the papers on a table in my living room, a slow smile crossed my face. Dialing Sterling’s number, I made my way up to my bedroom as I waited for him to answer his phone. I said, after his initial greeting, “If you aren’t busy, would you like to join me in going through some information I obtained from Universal Manpower? They’re who the kidnappers were hired through. Are you familiar with them?”

  “Vaguely,” he said. “Shall I come over and let you impress me with your…knowledge?”

  “Is that a dare?” I teased. “I have a list of the clients who hired from them within the last month. I thought we could go over the list while sharing an aged bottle of very good wine, unless you’d prefer something stronger. I have a very well-stocked bar.”

  “I can bring a bottle,” Sterling replied smoothly. �
�And for your knowledge, I don’t issue dares. I issue challenges. See you momentarily.”

  “Until then,” I replied. I ended the call, and I couldn’t keep the grin from my face. “Let the games begin.”

  Now, I just needed to find the perfect outfit for seduction. Thankfully, I had a large walk-in closet. I just had to figure out what wouldn’t come off as too slutty or too prim and proper.

  I really loved a good challenge, and Sterling, I was certain, was going to keep me on my toes.

  What to wear, what to wear? I pondered as I stared at the clothing hanging in front of me. I didn’t want to open the door in lingerie—as tempting as the idea might be—just for his reaction so I went through my dresses and found one designed for warm weather. I held it in front of me and grinned. It was a blue, floral print, which tied around the neck and had a zipper that stopped in the middle of my back. The hem fell at mid-thigh, and the dress hugged me in all the right places. I slid my feet into a pair of simple black heels and headed for the door. My wards alerted me that someone had arrived even before I reached my front door, and since they weren’t blaring, it wasn’t someone with malicious intent.

  My doorbell chimed, and I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, centering myself before I opened the door to find Sterling standing on my porch. I stepped back and gestured for him to enter. “Please, come in and be welcomed.”

  He was wearing a black tuxedo with a black silk shirt; no tie. The shirt was buttoned to the top, and his hair was immaculate. He smiled and held up an antique decanter, complete with a crystal stopper. “Thank you, I feel comfortable already. In case we need to feel more at ease, this bottle of Napoleon Brandy, from Napoleon’s personal stock, should help nicely.”

  He smiled at my expression. “Don’t mind the tux. I bought it from a clothier who specializes in Chippendales’ clothing. It tears away in two pieces.”

  Having made that declaration, he stepped inside.

  I was fairly certain from the way my face was burning, that it had to be several shades of red. Maybe I should have met him at the door in a negligee.

  “Ahem. Um. Shall we?” I asked, trying to bring my thoughts back to the task at hand. I stepped around him and headed for my living room, thinking I was completely out of my league with Sterling.

  The man was temptation, itself. I wasn’t typically one who put much stock in rumors and gossip, but after meeting Sterling, I couldn’t dismiss any of the rumors about his prowess in all things sensual and sexual, or his powers.

  He was a Bad Boy who had done many dark, deadly deeds, and I was a sucker for Bad Boys. The true ones, that is—not the posers and wanna-bes who had never done anything more illegal than shoplift or break a few traffic laws.

  That didn’t change the fact that I was now leading him into my living room and contemplating a one-night stand, or possibly an affair, with no hope or thought of it being more than a fun, sinfully amazing tryst without any future commitments. It was something I’d never done before.

  I briefly remembered the reverse harem I’d had during my wayward youth. After a few moments of consideration, I decided that didn’t count. Harems involved keeping said members for more than a single night, even if there was no real emotion attached to the relationship.

  I hadn’t been in a relationship of any sort since I dumped Nick. That was a very long time ago. Maybe it was time to enjoy some meaningless sex. If I ended up with a broken heart, then it would be on me, not him. It would suck, but that was better than living a sad, chaste life.

  The ‘whoosh’ of flames and the crackling of fire snapped me out of my thoughts. I glanced toward the fireplace and saw a roaring, Magickal fire dancing to its own tune. Suddenly, I was very aware that I was in the center of my living room with Sterling standing very, very close. When I turned, we were practically nose-to-nose, and his eyes were filled with laughter and challenge.

  “Have you finally come to a decision?” he asked in a voice a few octaves lower. Smooth, rich, and velvety, it was filled with mockery and daring.

  “Oh, fuck it,” I breathed before pressing my lips against his. To hell with everything. I could have regrets later, if I wanted. Tonight, I was going to have him.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Nine

  Wednesday

  The smell of coffee, bacon, eggs, and muffins woke me from my slumber the following morning. Smiling, I rolled over and stretched languidly. Five seconds after that, I opened my eyes and stared up at my ceiling, waiting to see if I felt guilty or ashamed.

  Nope. The only things I felt were soreness and hunger, and maybe some desire for a repeat performance. But that would have to wait, at least until my stomach wasn’t growling from the smell of the food wafting into my room.

  Sterling had been everything I imagined, and then some. Eventually, I’d have to think about the repercussions of having the evening, but that was for later.

  It was definitely something to talk about with Clair on our girls’ night, I decided, as I left the warmth of my bed and headed for the bathroom. After washing my hands, I walked toward the kitchen and the promising smells of a delicious breakfast.

  Sterling was wearing my white bath robe and cooking on my stove. His face was calm concentration as he fried bacon and scrambled eggs. He had a platter ready to the left of the stove with two pieces of toasted, flaxseed bread covered with orange marmalade sitting on one corner. The aroma of frying maple sugar bacon came from the skillet, and there was more than eggs and butter in the large non-stick pan he was expertly working with a spatula. I smelled cheese, an underlying scent of onion, and perhaps, something else. My mouth watered as I finally noticed the steaming cups of English tea next to the platter.

  “Morning,” he said, although his eyes and attention seemed fixed on the food he was cooking.

  “Morning,” I replied, heading for the cups of tea. Tucking a strand of wayward hair behind my ear, I leaned against the counter where the cups rested. A smile tugged at my lips as I watched him cook. I couldn’t help teasing him a little. “Good thing I enjoy voluminous robes.”

  “Had you been more the ‘baby-doll lingerie’ type, I would have tied your robe around my waist,” he countered. “I don’t cook naked, even at home, especially when there is bacon frying.”

  “Oh, I have a nice selection of those, too,” I said, picking up one of the mugs and tentatively taking a small sip. It was still too hot to drink, so I used a smidge of Magick to cool it. “I’m a little surprised to find you cooking. I guess I expected to see you relaxing at the table while my pots and pans did the cooking for you.”

  “I could animate your kitchenware to do all the labor,” he admitted. “However, I feel that certain situations, and people, warrant the personal touch.”

  The compliment rendered me speechless, and I could feel my face warming. I definitely did not regret last night.

  “Um…thank you,” I murmured before hiding behind the rim of my mug. I was over three hundred years of age; I shouldn’t be blushing like someone in the first century of life. But here I was, reddening like the proverbial schoolgirl, thanks to Sterling. Who would have thought I could still blush after all this time?

  “Perhaps you also feel this way, since I haven’t detected a great deal of Magick use on this floor. If you have a skill, it’s a waste not to use it. To use Magick instead is simple laziness,” he added, giving me an opportunity to compose myself. He placed the eggs on the platter. Somehow, I’d missed seeing Sterling take the bacon out of the skillet.

  Shrugging, I drank some of the tea, my brows lifting when I found it had just the right amount of sugar in it. “My workroom is in the basement. It’s easier to hide from any guests who might not…appreciate my skills in necromancy or be aware of Magick at all.”

  “Yes…the dragon leiche was very vocal about not welcoming me to ‘his’ basement,” Sterling said with a smirk. Grabbing the remaining mug of tea with his left hand, he picked up the platter of food with his right.

&
nbsp; “Where would you care to eat?”

  He’d probably explored my house while I’d slept. Ah, well, it wasn’t like he didn’t know what I was or what I did. I was a bit too infamous, and he was far too powerful for me to fight. Strangely, I didn’t mind him prowling about my house without me escorting him. Odd. If it had been anyone else, I would have wanted to fillet them alive.

  “How about the living room? It’s more comfortable, and we can go over the information I obtained,” I said with a sly smile. “Unless you have something else planned for after breakfast?”

  “If you mean more of what we did before sleep and breakfast, I can do that in any room,” he replied slyly and walked past me.

  Oh, my. Being outmatched had never been so much fun. Biting back giggles of nervousness and delight, I followed him into my living room.

  Many of those who practice the Art don’t have a true home. My parents had instilled the need for a home and hearth into me from an early age. Thresholds are required to keep out evil. Vampires, some demons, and many other beings can’t pass over a strong threshold. But to have one, you need to have a home—something that is more than a place where you eat and sleep. It has to be a place where you feel safe, where you live and thrive, and it has to have personality.

  Every room of my house was decorated to fit my personality. There were lots of lights, shelves filled with books, and artwork, artifacts, and antiques on the walls, not to mention photographs of my parents and the Richmond cousins I adored. There were also a 62-inch television with full surround-sound and a bookshelf loaded with movies in my living room near the fireplace. My house was a home, complete with a threshold.

  One of the gifts my father had given me was an antique, French provincial coffee table that had been made around 1910. It had inlaid floral designs carved into the walnut wood. Walking over to the table, I knocked on it twice.