Thief of Magic (Heiress of Magic Trilogy #2)

by H. D. Gordon

  Gregory grabbed a heavy bookend from a shelf on the wall before creeping cautiously over to the window. When he got there, he just stood staring at it, the bookend held at the ready, as if he were afraid to get too close. Samson sighed silently at the man’s pitiful reservations.

  The small knock came again, and Samson’s amber eyes narrowed when a face appeared in the window. Though Gregory’s back was to him, he must have known the visitor, because he set the bookend down after a moment and pushed open the glass of the arched window.

  As soon as it was open, the caller stepped into the room and stood on the window sill, towering over Gregory in a way that made him look almost comically small and round. Samson studied the two-leg, and knew he had met him before but could not recall his name.

  Also, the man had a look about him that left an impression. His hair was long and straight and silver, falling well past his wide shoulders. His eyes were also silver, and his skin was so pale it could nearly be considered silver as well.

  He was shirtless, his chest and stomach carved with muscle, and as he settled on the window, his black, dragonfly-like wings flitted twice and then folded against his back and over his arms. They melted into the skin there, looking now like nothing more than black tattoos.

  “Arrol,” said Gregory, “What in the name of the Gods are you doing here?”

  Arrol. That’s right. Now Samson remembered. His Surah had had dealings with this Arrol before. Samson studied him closer, remembering that he was what two-legs called a Fae, though if you asked Samson they were all just two-legs to him.

  Except Fae had wings, which explained how he had reached the tower window, but not at all why he was here. The last time that Samson checked, other races didn’t just cross over into the territories of another, and they certainly didn’t just show up at the king’s castle.

  “I am not here in the name of the Gods,” Arrol said, his voice as silky as his hair.

  Gregory crossed out of Samson’s line of sight for a moment, but by the noise he was making, Samson could tell he was over by the bar in the corner pouring himself a drink.

  He must have offered the Fae one, because Arrol held up his hand and shook his head. “I’ve a long flight to make, and it’s best if I have my wits about me so I may make it back to my land before sunrise.”

  Gregory entered the scene again and leaned casually against the wall, taking a deep swig of his brandy before eyeing Arrol closely.

  “Not here in the name of the Gods?” he asked. “I was under the impression you delivered messages for the White Gods. Whose errand are you on now?”

  Arrol didn’t hop down from the windowsill. He stared down at the Sorcerer with cold silver eyes. “I do not run errands. I am repaying a debt. A debt I owe to my Queen.”

  Gregory’s eyebrows went up, and he took another swig of his drink, emptying the glass. Again, Samson thought about how Gregory always looked like he was at a disadvantage, being a shorter man with a round belly and balding head, but unlike Theo, Arrol didn’t seem fooled by the appearance. The Fae was purposely keeping his distance.

  “So you’ve come with word from Tristell? I have no business with her. No offense, but she’s kind of a crazy bitch.”

  A crooked smile came over Arrol’s face. “No offense taken. But I am not here to discuss her, I am here to deliver her message, and since this will cover my recent unfortunate debt to her, I intend to do just that.”

  Gregory sighed and waved a hand, telling the Fae to get on with it. Samson held his breath as Arrol’s eyes paused over his hiding spot, but if the Fae saw him, he didn’t say anything.

  “Your magic is gone,” Arrol said. “My queen wanted me to ask you if you would like to have it back?”

  Gregory scoffed a little. “That’s a ridiculous question,” he said. When Arrol just stared at him, he added, “Of course I want it back. We all do.”

  Arrol nodded. “Then there’s something you must do before the sun sets on this day.”

  “What is that?”

  “You must spill the blood of your king.”

  Silence followed, during which Samson could hear only the sound of his heart beating in his chest. He could hardly process what he’d just heard, let alone make a decision regarding what to do about it, and he was not an indecisive creature.

  The part of him that could never quite be tamed told him to just slip out of his hiding spot and kill both men for even uttering such treason. He did not feel about Surah’s father the way he felt about Surah, but Samson knew that if anything happened to the King, Surah would suffer greatly for it.

  On the other hand, he knew he should hear where this was going. So as always, for her, he stayed put.

  After a moment more of silence, Arrol made a move to leave, but Gregory stopped him.

  “Hold on just a minute,” he snapped. “That’s all? Spill Syrian’s blood and the magic comes back?”

  Arrol put a finger to his chin, and a sheepish smile worked its way across his face. “Actually, I think she said all of his blood. You know, like a sacrifice. You’re a Sorcerer, you should be familiar with that.”

  Gregory sputtered and reached into his night pants, pulling a small dagger out of his pocket and pointing it at Arrol, who looked as though he found this amusing. Gregory’s beady eyes were narrowed to slits.

  “You come here and tell me your queen says to kill my king or my kind will never regain their magic. You’ve got some nerve, fairy, and a hell of an imagination.”

  Arrol laughed outright, tossing his head back and making his silver hair ripple over his shoulders. “No need to name-call the messenger,” he said, and when his eyes found Gregory again, there was no trace of humor among the silver there. “And I don’t give two shits if you believe what I’ve told you, only that I’ve told you it.”

  To his credit, Gregory didn’t take a step back. “Why would your queen tell me this? And how—even if it were true—would she have this knowledge to begin with… Unless she has something to do with the magic being gone in the first place. If that’s so, things are worse off than I thought.”

  “I have no interest in the state of things between the Fae and your kind, and I’ve told you all I know,” Arrol said, his eyes passing over the spot where Samson was once again, and then flicking back to Gregory. “But I suppose she gave you this message because you are in a position to do something about it. Correct me if I’m wrong, but your kind are little more than human without your magic, no?”

  Gregory was breathing heavily, his chest heaving up and down, the jowls around his face clenched tight in anger, his cheeks growing red as blood filled them. Apparently, he didn’t like being compared to humans any more than Arrol liked being called a fairy.

  Arrol laughed at his expression and his wings peeled themselves free of his shoulders and back, flicking rapidly a few times. Then, he stepped right off the window ledge and hung in the air for a moment outside the window, just outside the reach of Gregory’s dagger. His wings moved so fast they were little more than a blur, making a small buzzing noise as they moved.

  The Fae smiled widely at the Sorcerer, his white teeth shining out of his almost silver face. He shrugged once and gave another short laugh. “Hell, maybe my queen thought you’d like to play the hero, be the one to save the thing that makes your kind special, but if that’s so, I would wager that she’s never made your acquaintance.”

  Gregory was so angry Samson could practically smell his rage on the air. He spoke between clenched teeth. “How do you know that?”

  Arrol held up a finger, the smug smile on his face wider than ever. “One, because you told me as much earlier. I believe you said you heard she was ‘one crazy bitch’, which, while accurate, implies you’ve never met her.” He held up another finger. “And two, because no one would peg you as the hero.”

  Gregory reared back and launched his empty brandy glass out the window, which Arrol dodged easily. “

  Get out of here you Gods damned fairy!” he yelled,
spittle flying from his lips. “Come here again and I’ll have you arrested for trespassing and see that the punishment is your head mounted on my wall!”

  “Have a good day, Lord Brightstar,” Arrol said.

  Gregory slammed the window in his face and stalked out of the room. When he was gone, Samson slipped out from beneath the bed and went to the window, but no one was there.

  He stood there for a long moment, because he couldn’t be sure, but he thought that right after the Fae had told Gregory he was no hero, he’d looked at Samson and winked.

  This did nothing but confuse the tiger. Two-legs and their endless gestures and secret signals with their endless, secret meanings. Why did they insist on making everything so complicated? Weren’t things bad enough as it was? Why did they insist on bloodshed and betrayal?

  Then again, hadn’t he betrayed his own kind for Surah? Hadn’t he killed and maimed for her, and would do so thoughtlessly again? These questions annoyed him. Cats did not waste time worrying about such senseless things.

  Besides that, he was finally at the point where if he didn’t rest soon, he would collapse wherever he stood. He certainly didn’t want that to be in Brightstar’s chambers, but he didn’t want to go back to Surah’s room, either.

  It was too empty without her there.

  The best solution to the problem hit him, and he slipped out of the room and began heading toward King Syrian’s chambers. This way, he could kill two birds with one stone.

  He could sleep, and watch over her father. Because if he wasn’t already, King Syrian himself had just become a bird at least one man might decide to throw a stone at.

  And his Surah wouldn’t like that. Not at all.

  Chapter 21

  Surah

  Surah woke up before the sun rose, her eyes peeling open slowly and more reluctantly than usual.

  She always arose early, as she felt the best part of the day was moments before light broke. Today, her body was warm under the covers and her stomach felt wonderfully settled, as if she could just lay here forever and—

  Her eyes popped open fully and her head jerked to the right. Her heart sank when she saw the bed beside her was empty. She ran a hand over her head and sat up, replaying the events of last night. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a deep voice spoke from across the room.

  “Morning,” Charlie said, his eyes falling down to her chest and coming up again, bringing one side of his mouth up as well. “You should put some clothes on, love. It’s distracting and we have things to do.”

  Surah felt a slow, hot blush creep over her cheeks and looked down to see she was topless. She yanked the covers up and wrapped them around her.

  Then, she reconsidered and dropped the covers again.

  Charlie was leaning back in the same chair he’d occupied last night, in the process of pulling on his shirt, but now, he sat forward, his eyes going serious and... pained.

  Yes, that was it. His haunted look had come back. Last night had been the first time she’d ever seen it gone. She had no idea why, but its return made a small ache in her heart.

  She slipped out of the bed, aware that she was totally bare before him but also not caring. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t explored all of her last night, and somehow, it felt right to come to him this way.

  If last night was any indication, she helped to chase his demons away, and though she’d promised herself she would forget what she’d allowed to happen last night come morning, morning was here, and even in its light she could see that this was something that was never going to happen.

  She realized then that she was not falling in love with Charlie Redmine, not anymore. She was already in love with him, and when he hurt, her heart felt it. The worst part was, she had a feeling that somehow it was she that was hurting him, that she was somehow the center of his pain, and had been, for a very long time.

  “Tell me what’s ailing you, love,” she said, using his term for her. Her voice was low and sweet in the silence of the early morning, like soft music in a sleeping house.

  He opened his arms to her and she climbed atop his lap. Her hands came up and rested on his warm chest, making warmth spiral in her own.

  Charlie brought his hands up slowly and cupped her face, his fingers calloused but gentle. His eyes were a sight fit to mend a heart… or break one.

  “If I’m being honest, I think that now that I’ve had you, I’m even more afraid of losing you,” he said, and gave her that half smile that made her heart flip.

  She recalled his words to him when she had admitted much the same thing, back at the cabin in the woods.

  “That makes two of us,” she said.

  This turned his half smile into a whole grin, and Charlie made her chuckle when he stood abruptly and carried her to the bed.

  Once there, she did not laugh, but instead, had to slap a hand over her mouth as Charlie took to his knees and settled between hers. She wasn’t sure if Candace and CJ were awake yet, but she certainly didn’t want to be overheard.

  When he was finished wringing every bit of pleasure from her with his wicked tongue, he had to remind her three times that they needed to hit the road before she could convince her body to move.

  At last, she retrieved her clothes, which were scattered about the room. She could feel him watching her as she dressed, that heat radiating from his eyes and running over her skin.

  When she was clothed, she wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and fastened it at the neck, running her hands over the weapons inside and making sure all were accounted for.

  They stepped into the living area and saw they were apparently the only ones awake.

  “I don’t want to wake Candace,” Surah whispered. “But I feel rude leaving without thanking her one last time.”

  “You could leave her a note,” Charlie said, and shrugged. “Just let me grab my boots from the other room and I’ll meet you outside.”

  He headed back down the small hall, and Surah looked around the kitchen and found a notepad and pen hanging on the refrigerator. She scribbled out a quick thank you to Candace, and after a small hesitation and an inward sigh, decided to add CJ’s name as well. With that taken care of, she went to the front door and let herself out, taking a deep breath of the early morning air.

  For the first time in what seemed like a long time, she took a moment to let herself be happy. Despite everything going on, she felt good this morning. At peace. It was hard not to be, with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, and streaks of soft oranges and pinks beginning to mark the sky, which was still mostly dark above.

  It was the time of day when the birds were just waking, calling out their morning greetings. She was sure the weather would heat up and be uncomfortable by midday, but right now it was perfect, the kind of temperature you wished you could just carry around with you.

  In the distance, hills of yellow and green rolled on endlessly, huge pines and oaks decorating them and swaying in the slight breeze. Even the air smelled cleaner this morning.

  For now, she would let the feelings of last night carry on. She would let herself believe everything was going to be okay.

  As they stood for a moment taking in the countryside, she pulled her hood over her head and turned to face him.

  “How about we stick to the hills today and stay off the road? You know, so we don’t have to deal with any more… unsavory people.”

  He gave her a half smile. “Good idea, love. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  She laughed at this and looped her arm through his, wondering at the way he could flip her mood upside down. A moment ago she’d been at risk of sinking into despair at the thought of what lie ahead of them. Now, she felt happy and at peace again. She was beginning to think of this as the Charlie Effect.

  “You ready for the walk?” he asked, as they were climbing the hill that overlooked Candace’s house.

  Surah nodded. “I’ll be fine, Charlie,” she said.

  But she knew there was no way to
be sure of this.

  Chapter 22

  Surah

  They crested another hill, and as they reached the top they saw a small town below.

  It was little more than a handful of one-story buildings and a spattering of modest homes. Surah was distracted from the conversation for a moment as she stared down at it, trying to put a finger on just what was out of place.

  Then, it hit her, there weren’t any people. Not a single Sorcerer or Sorceress to be seen. While Surah knew the population of a town this size could not be too many, she still thought someone would be out and about.

  She turned to Charlie, her brow creased. “Where do you think they all are?”

  Charlie scanned the area, then shook his head. “The city, I guess. Wanting answers about the missing magic.”

  A little worry started to bubble up Surah’s throat at this, but she did her best to swallow it away. “How many people do you think are headed that way?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “We’ve stuck to the trees and hills and stayed off the roads, which is why we haven’t come across anyone, but I’d say quite a few. People are worried.”

  Surah nodded, knowing Charlie was putting it mildly for her benefit. For some reason, the sight of this small, empty town had slammed into her the reality of how bad things were at the moment. The magic disappearing had seemed like the cherry on top of the sundae with everything else that was going on, but maybe it was more than that. Maybe it was the ice cream.

  Of course people were worried. They were probably more than worried. They were probably scared and on the edge of freaking out, and they were all headed to her father’s doorstep in an impressive mass…

  She had to shake these thoughts away, because they were running thoughts, and they would get away with her if she let them. When a warm hand fell on her shoulder, she turned to Charlie and studied his face until a smile found hers. He was like her personal ray of sunshine on her emotions.