The Fae's Amulet

by J F Posthumus

  The smile on my face lasted even after I crawled into bed and snuggled into the pillow that still held Sterling’s scent. It had been too long since I’d slept curled up in a man’s arms, and Sterling was quickly becoming something I craved more than chocolate.

  * * *

  The kiss was warm and welcoming. I parted my lips and leaned into it. The mouth pressed against mine eased away, and a soft chuckle reached my ears as my eyes slowly fluttered open.

  Sterling’s eyes met mine, and I smiled up at him, reaching for him in the hope of pulling him into bed with me.

  “No time for that this morning,” he said, and it was then that I realized he wasn’t wearing his usual clothes. He was dressed far more formally, and the air around him was tense.

  A frown pulled at the corners of my mouth. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s my job to inform you that the High Council has summoned you to Nicolai Elais Wright’s estate.”

  Though the words were said in a formal, cool tone, there was mischief lurking in the depths of Sterling’s gorgeous eyes.

  Either I was getting better at reading him, or he wasn’t concerned, in the least, about what was going to happen. Considering the summons came from Nick’s estate, I suspected he was probably amused by it.

  “Guess I should shower and dress,” I said with a sigh. Tossing the covers back, revealing that I had slept in absolutely nothing, I stretched languidly. Looking up at Sterling, I smiled seductively. “I guess you wouldn’t be interested in joining me for a shower, would you?”

  I got out of bed and padded toward the bathroom.

  “Not now, unfortunately,” he called after me, regret in his voice. “But you might want another shower after this business.”

  I paused in the bathroom doorway and turned so I was looking over my shoulder at him. “All things considered, I’m sure I’ll need a nice long shower to get properly cleansed.” With a wink and grin, I disappeared into the bathroom.

  When I stepped out a little while later, my hair was drawn up with a pair of silver kanzashi, and my makeup was done. A Victorian, black, pinstripe dress, which covered my throat and fell to the floor in layers, fit snugly against my torso. My comfortable cut-down boots were a bit modern, but they wouldn’t be seen by most.

  “Shall we?” I asked.

  Sterling nodded, appreciation shining in the depths of his brown eyes. I tucked my hand in the crook of his arm, and we departed for Nick’s estate.

  * * *

  We didn’t bother driving. For one thing, the sound of a motor, even the quiet purr of Sterling’s, would announce our arrival. For another, teleporting was a display of power.

  Since there was nothing to signal our arrival, I suspected the Council had already appeared and removed whatever wards had existed.

  Running my hands down the sides of my gown, I smoothed away non-existent wrinkles. It wasn’t that I was nervous about being called to testify against Nick, something I was looking forward to with far too much enthusiasm. It was the fact that the entire High Council had been convened.

  The only Council members I had ever dealt with, until meeting Sterling, had been my parents. I’d never been overly worried about impressing my parents or seeking their approval. Now, I was about to formally meet the Council members, some of whom I knew weren’t overly fond of necromancers or anything having to do with the Dark Arts.

  To top it off, I wouldn’t be able to turn to my mother or father. Even though I was their daughter, they had to keep their distance and rule fairly. Or, to be completely accurate, to rule as they saw fit. They wouldn’t ask my opinion or do anything most parents would do for a beloved child.

  Sterling nudged me before offering his arm. Like a proper lady, I rested my hand on his forearm and allowed him to escort me up the stairs, to the elaborate double doors of the mansion Nick owned.

  I had always thought Nick displayed his wealth to prove his power. Considering he was rather pathetic and not nearly as powerful as he claimed, it wasn’t an idle thought. Nor was it one born from jealousy or envy.

  The mansion was grandiose, elaborate with rich wood floors and elegant woodworking inside and out. I loved the craftsmanship and architecture, but that was as far as it went. Nick’s idea of decor was a horrible mix of Old World, Hollywood Goth, and New Age “what-the-fuck-is-that” art.

  The combination could have worked if it weren’t jumbled together.

  Sterling was made of sterner material than I. While I couldn’t hide my grimace, he did. In fact, aside from offering me his arm, he remained cool and aloof.

  He led me through the double doors and into the foyer. The sweeping staircase rose to a landing before dividing in two. The second floor wrapped around the foyer, leaving the center open with a clear view to the first floor.

  I ignored the gaudy paintings, faux statues, and cheap vases that littered the foyer as Sterling escorted me to the left.

  “No doubt Nicholai would be offended and jealous that the pins in your hair are worth more than any of his ‘art’ on display,” Sterling mused.

  Chuckling, I glanced at Sterling out of the corner of my eyes. “He was greatly intimidated by much of what I’ve collected during my lifetime. Unlike most who manage to survive more than a handful of decades, he was never able to amass a great amount of income.”

  “He is too frivolous and obsessed with amassing quantity,” said Sterling. “He sees power as a way to collect more voluminously.”

  “He gains power, only to lose it with much greater stakes than he realizes,” I replied. “He couldn’t keep it or wield it with any lasting effect.”

  “Not true. Those who poorly use power often leave the most lasting scars on the world,” Sterling reflected somberly.

  “True,” I said with a sigh. “At least I figured out he only wanted what I could offer before I became thoroughly involved with him.”

  Sterling didn’t answer. We were in front of a set of large doors. He looked at me, and I nodded. At a slight gesture from him, the doors swung open.

  All thirteen pairs of eyes in the room were focused on me. Most of them were not human, even though each member was more than powerful enough to glamour a human appearance if they had chosen to. I didn’t falter beneath their heavy gaze. Nick was the one who was here to be sentenced, not me. My parents hadn’t raised a fool; I knew how to skirt the rules and laws without technically breaking them. It was how I’d managed to avoid one of these travesties. If the Council thought they could intimidate me, they were sorely mistaken.

  Anyone who chose the path of necromancy learned early on not to be bothered by other’s opinions. And I loved my Craft.

  “Catherine of the Dark Craft, you have been called as a witness,” the Speaker of the Council addressed me.

  She was an elf from the Original Clan, the race that all subspecies of elves descended from. As such, her extreme height, creamy complexion and nails, fair hair, and high-brow were natural physical traits. I’d bet her sharp nose and her ability to look down it at all others was genetic, as well.

  I didn’t bow or curtsy. Considering my mother, a queen in her own right, never made me do it, I didn’t see any reason to do so for the woman speaking to me, let alone any of the others. I caught smirks and glowers from the rest, but the Speaker’s expression didn’t change. Lifting my chin, I offered the barest of smiles.

  “What do you want to know?” I took pride in the fact I kept my voice even and the smirk from showing. Nick had to have figured out why I was there by now. If not, it was a pity I wouldn’t see his expression.

  “You observed Nicholai Elias Wright distributing, and possibly using, dragon’s blood, did you not? Can you offer testimony to this effect, and do you know if he committed the further crime of giving the controlled substance to mundanes?”

  “I witnessed him using dragon’s blood in the past. At the time, he was not giving it to mundanes; not that I know of.” There was no way I was going to allow the Council to think I had known he g
ave mundanes Magick. Not only had he never said he’d done it, but I’d never witnessed it. “He did state, recently, that he gave mundanes dragon’s blood, watered down with his own blood, to garner followers. I was not alone when he stated that.”

  “We have already gathered testimony from the being who was in your company the past few days,” Sterling declared. “Unless you are referring to another incident?”

  “No,” I replied, barely stopping myself from shaking my head. “When I learned that Nick was giving mundanes dragon’s blood, I informed my father.” I did smile at that. “Since Father is on the Council, I knew he would know how to properly contact the rest of the High Council and investigate my allegations.”

  “Very well,” the Speaker replied. “We were hoping you would have some knowledge of where the accused keeps his supply of dragon’s blood. We will have to take this location apart stone by stone.”

  “I’m pretty sure I know where he keeps it. He hasn’t changed a single thing since I was here ages ago,” I replied, perhaps a little too gleefully. Nick’s glower burned into my back. I turned slightly and caught him looking up at me, his eyes filled with fury he didn’t bother to mask. “I’m not sure if he’s an arrogant ass or just stupid.”

  “So, this is how you plan to finally move up in our society?” Nick’s anger rang through his raised voice. “Being Sterling’s new punch bunny isn’t going to make doors open up fast enough? You have to spill whatever you think you know to the Council, so they’ll be impressed? Maybe if you were any good in bed, Sterling would be compelled to make things hap—”

  The rest of Nick’s declaration was swallowed by a scream tearing through his vocal cords. Below his knees, Nick’s legs had transformed into what looked like tree roots, which were rapidly burrowing into the floor beneath him.

  My brows rose until I was pretty sure they’d merged into my hairline. I moved a few steps away, out of Sterling’s reach, and looked at my father, then my mother. My dad was smirking, and my mother was smiling like a fiend who had found new prey. Dyrmirth, the dragon, was smiling slightly, and I followed his twinkling, emerald green eyes to Sterling.

  “Looks like someone just made something happen,” I quipped.

  “Now that we can be certain you aren’t going anywhere,” Sterling said slowly, while his right hand twisted the energy used to power the spell he was weaving, “Catherine can show us where she believes you are keeping the contraband.”

  Yeah, I was definitely falling for Sterling. His malicious streak was showing greatly at the moment. There was most certainly going to be a shower and more later.

  “With pleasure,” I stated, the smile not fading a bit. I turned toward the Council members, adding, “With your permission?”

  “Lead the way,” invited the Speaker. “Consigliere, will you need to remain here to keep the accused in place?”

  “No, Madam Speaker. The spell cannot be broken by the likes of him, even if he drinks a goblet of dragon’s blood.”

  As if to underline his statement, Sterling lowered his hand, but the roots coming from Nick’s feet burrowed even deeper into the floor. Nick howled again. He started to speak, likely making more threats or crude insults, but his voice was choked with pain and sobbing to the point of unintelligibility.

  The other Council members had morphed their bodies into human forms and gathered around me.

  I led the way through the still-familiar halls of Nick’s place until we came to his bedroom. The Council was right behind me. Dyrmirth stepped past me and opened the door. Chivalry apparently lived on.

  Nick’s bedroom looked like a museum that had been closed halfway through its opening night and was being renovated into a rock star’s harem chamber. An aging rock star, whose glory years were several decades behind him. Surrounding the circular, candy red, spinning bed, with silk sheets, were several art pieces and very well-made duplicates. A version of Michelangelo’s David was in the right corner, peering down at the bed. David’s face had been replaced with a facsimile of Nick’s smug mug, and the manhood had been exaggerated. Considering Nick was smaller than the original statue, it had been greatly exaggerated.

  I walked over to the statue and looked at the wide, stone base. Groaning inwardly, I faced the Council and explained, “I saw him open the base of this statue, once, when he thought I was asleep. Please forgive me if you find what I’m about to do offensive. I didn’t make this lock. I’m just the one who has to open it.”

  With that said, I walked up to the statue and tweaked the stone figure’s nipples. The front of the base slid open two seconds later. I dropped my hands and brushed my fingers rapidly against my skirt. They felt filthy.

  The Council Speaker brought my attention back into focus. “It seems you were correct, and we owe you a debt of thanks.”

  The base was filled with vials, communion wafers, droppers, a gold goblet, and a large rag stained with the distinct, green sheen of dragon’s blood.

  “I’m sure there is some documentation somewhere about where and how he acquired the dragon’s blood,” I stated, clenching my hands into fists. “I don’t know where he gets his supply.”

  Twirling my finger over the objects in the drawer, I levitated everything and turned to face the Council.

  “Nick stated to me and Sterling that he turned the blood into a powder form prior to using it. I suspect he used the dragon’s blood in its true form for himself.”

  “He keeps that under his bed,” A new, male voice announced.

  I turned to the source of the voice and noticed that everyone in the Council had done the same. A scrawny male in his late twenties, wearing jeans and a faded t-shirt, was standing in the doorway.

  “He usually keeps any powdered stuff under there, as well,” the stranger continued. “Let me know if you see any record albums under there while you retrieve it. He’s got my collection, and I’m here to get it back before it’s stolen or sold off.”

  “Identify yourself,” Sterling said in a calm but firm tone. “Explain how you entered these premises past the guard and the wards.”

  “Hey, I’m Dirk,” the man said, seemingly unfazed, and waved with his right hand. In his left, there was a metal key ring holding four keys. “I’m Nick’s cousin, and I used the key he gave me to come in through the basement door.”

  I can’t recall the last time, if ever, I’d heard a dragon snort. But Dyrmirth did, and it sounded like a mash-up of a dog yipping and a hog strangling. It was, however, a contagiously funny noise, and I snorted once with laughter before I regained control.

  “Greetings, Dirk,” the Speaker responded. “We are here to arrest and punish your cousin for possessing and distributing illegal substances. Are you prepared to defend him?”

  “Oh, hell no,” Dirk laughed. “I’m a mundane, but I know who you guys are, and what he’s been doing. That’s why I’m here. When my cousin said he might be out of town for a while, I figured he was fleeing from you or some other Magickal authority. He built a harem of drooling followers by sneaking potential groupies some dragon’s blood mixed into stuff like wine, his blood, cocaine, or whatever got them excited. He told them his blood made them Magickal for a while, and if they followed and obeyed enough, he’d make it permanent. What a tool. Have your way with him. Me, I gotta find my original vinyl pressing of the Beatles’ White Album, if my dear relative didn’t trade it for his freedom or a supply of one thing or another.”

  Dyrmirth stepped forward.

  “I’d be interested in buying that album from you, should you find it. I’ll give you fair market value price, in cash.”

  Several of the Council members grumbled. Sterling glanced at me and smirked. My parents looked at each other and grinned.

  “What?” the dragon demanded, looking over his shoulder at the rest of us. “I’m a collector of good vinyl, and it’s making a comeback. You don’t see new music being printed on 8-track tapes or cassettes, do you? I tried to tell you bipeds what would happen, but no. Can’t listen
to him. He only looks human when he wants to. He can’t understand the market or human whims!”

  “I was hoping to keep that album. It’s my pride and joy,” Dirk said apologetically. “I do have Derek and the Dominos’ Layla and other Love Songs, every Prince album up to Purple Rain, and every Stones album through Tattoo You.”

  “I think we are going to make each other quite content, Dirk. Let me help you find your collection,” Dyrmirth offered.

  “Uh, cool!” Dirk exclaimed, his expression lacking confidence.

  My father had taken the opportunity to walk over and look under the absurd bed. We heard a switch click, and the rotation stopped. Dad called out from under the base.

  “Ledgers, powder, a mortar and pestle, nose tubes, but no vinyl records,” he reported.

  Dyrmirth excused himself and walked away with Dirk, no doubt in search of the elusive albums.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “We gather the evidence and make our judgment,” explained the Speaker.

  It took about an hour. Unlike a police investigation, everything went into a bag that seemed to accommodate anything, even objects ten times its size, with no problem or end in sight.

  I’d heard of them. They were called different things depending on who you asked. The various forms of dragon’s blood, along with containers, ledgers, pestles and mortars, and anything else that could be used against Nick went into the five-pound bag. Then, I was ignored while the Council and Sterling quietly debated.

  Once they were finished, we returned to where we’d left Nick. He was hunched over, using his hands to tug uselessly at his legs and feet that were now small tree trunks.

  “Your guilt has been proven as absolute,” the Speaker announced.

  Nick yelped and looked around at us. His face held anger, and maybe defiance, for a second or two, but it melted away as he looked into our eyes. There was no pity or doubt to exploit. Sterling had whispered to me on the way over that the Council’s decision had been unanimous, and the only debate was how to best punish Nick.