Bound by Faerie: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Stolen Magic Book 1)

by WB McKay

  Leaning back in my chair, I exhaled heavily and stared Ava and her creepy eyes right the hell down.

  Ava leaned back and dusted her dark bangs from her face. "What can I help you with?"

  Going home wasn't an option. She was right. I was desperate. And it was a horrible idea to let her know that, but damage done. I was desperate to believe I wasn't a murderer, that I wouldn't kill again, and learning control was the only way to make sure that was true. "I need information on The Morrigan."

  Her eyes gleamed. My name was Sophie Morrigan; she knew what I was asking.

  "The Morrigan is a mystery. To everyone, it seems."

  "Wow, that's really the kind of insight I came for, Ava. So helpful of you."

  "Hmm." Ava stared off to the side. It wasn't unfocused like she was spacing out; it was like she saw things I didn't. Her magic didn't swell, though, so I knew she wasn't doing anything. When Ava did whatever it was that she did, the room smelled briny, with a hint of smoke, like burning driftwood. Everything about Ava reminded me of the ocean. "She's ancient, The Morrigan. Such a life has many secrets. I'm not sure which of them you're after."

  "Anything would be helpful," I said.

  "The Morrigan has many titles. Battle Goddess."

  "Phantom queen. Yeah, I know. Even The Morrigan is a title, don't you think?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Do you think her first name is 'The'?"

  Ava's nose twitched, like a bunny's. "Cute. I never thought of it like that."

  "I did. I wondered about that a lot when I was a kid. If I was Sophie Morrigan, and my sister was Belinda Morrigan, then my mom was The Morrigan. Belinda said it took a few conversations over several years to get me to understand that her name wasn't 'The'. It's her favorite embarrassing story about me."

  Ava's nose twitched again, drawing my attention to the freckles spattered there. It made her look so young, which was a silly thing to say because Ava looked to be about twenty-one years old at any time. "Ava, how old are you?"

  Any goodwill I'd imagined from her freckled bunny nose disappeared at once. It was rude to ask a fae their age. Really, it was rude to ask a fae any direct question. "Today's human behavior has gotten the better of you, Sophie. I understand you're always uncouth, but please, let's not be absurd. Some traditions are not to be broken." She flipped back her hair, which was cut above her shoulders and swooshed right back to the sides of her ample cheeks. The gesture made me wonder if she was being serious.

  I decided to push it, because that's what I do. "You know, for someone seeming to reject fae society, you are awfully hung up on its traditions."

  One corner of her lips turned up slowly, slyly. That was either very good, or very bad. It excited me either way, and that's entirely why I needed to have my head checked. Upsetting a fae whose magic I could never get a clear read on was a disastrous idea. She tilted her head and said, "For someone asking for a favor, you are awfully impolite."

  She had me there.

  She rose from her chair, and I jumped up like she'd made a move to strike me. I had the good sense to be scared, even if I did enjoy the adrenaline rush.

  "Sit, sit," she ordered.

  I sat.

  Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

  My heart raced. My lips turned up in a nervous twitch. We stayed like that, staring at each other, her standing there, me sitting. As big as my mouth was, I wouldn't be the one to break the silence. This was a game. I was very stubborn about games.

  "Seventy," she said.

  I blinked. Damn it. "What?"

  "You heard me." She turned away, walking around the room, and I dropped my eyes. Holy crap. Ava'd just told me how old she was. Did that mean I won? I thought so. Self-satisfaction rolled off me; I couldn't help it. So, Ava was seventy years old. I'd always imagined she was older than she looked in human years, but it was nice to know she was still young. It made her fractionally less intimidating.

  "So, about The Morrigan—" I started.

  "Oh, Sophie." She spun around and faced me, her disappointment transparent. "There we were, sharing a moment, and you're all work, work, work."

  "We were having a moment? What kind of moment?"

  "We were bonding, you and I. Sharing our secrets."

  "Oh," I said.

  "The Morrigan. You still haven't told me what it is you want to know."

  "Everything," I said. I figured it was safer not to reveal exactly what I was looking for, in case Ava truly didn't know; I didn't want her looking into why I needed information on The Morrigan's magic. I found things for a living. So did Ava. If she went digging around, who knew what she'd discover. Also, while I wanted to know about The Morrigan's magic, anything could be useful.

  Ava trailed her fingers over one of the saltwater aquariums crowding the shop walls. They held various sea creatures too injured to remain in the wild. Her pride and joy was the sea turtle with three prosthetic legs. He swam in a massive tank covering the back wall. Inside each of the tanks were treasure chests trapped inside perfect spheres of air, keeping their contents dry. They were propped open to reveal precious gems and other valuable objects. She'd once told me they were actual pieces of sunken treasure. It was a simple magical charm that never ceased to amaze the human customers who frequented her shop in Arcata.

  "I know how you can find what you seek." It was hard not to roll my eyes. Did she talk to all her clients like that? She tapped her chin. "I wonder if you'll be up to the challenge of recovering it."

  "I'll do it," I said. I didn't need to think about it.

  "Hmm." Ava nodded. "You are desperate."

  "It would be nice if you stopped saying that."

  "Even so," Ava returned to her seat at the table, "I wonder how much this is worth to you."

  I scowled at her, understanding what game she was playing now. "You've never pulled the shakedown on me before. If that's how we're going to play this, name a price and I'll pay it. I don't want to play games. It's important to me, but I'm sure I can find the information another way if I have to."

  Her mouth hung agape, so I took that as a sign she didn't want to do business with me and pushed to my feet.

  "Prickly," she observed. "I like it." She did the bunny nose twitch again and pointed at the chair I'd vacated. "Sit. I wasn't talking about money. You've brought me a lot of business from the bureau. I can offer you this advice without charge."

  My brow crinkled in confusion. I plopped back down in the chair. When I thought about it, I'd never seen many clients in her shop, and the fact that her store was in a human town meant her abilities weren't coveted by the fae. She probably did need the business I brought her. "Then what's with all the vagueness about how much it's worth to me?"

  "I don't expect you'll like what is required," Ava said. "I, however, will find it highly amusing."

  I couldn't imagine Ava "highly amused". Did she make any sound when she laughed? What did Ava find funny? Whatever the case, I told her, "I'll do what it takes."

  "I know a guy." She had the courtesy to bite her lip, like she was attempting to tame her smile, but it was still there, unsettling as anything. "He has a book collection."

  "Sounds like a simple cat burglary job."

  "It would be, if he didn't have connections in the Unseelie court. Incredibly powerful young fae. His home is enchanted better than any I've seen. It would take you a year to gather the resources to get in, and another year to access the book itself."

  "What do I have to do?"

  "Get him to take you to it." I stared at her, and she added, "Get him to take you home with him."

  I leaned back in my chair, seeing where this was going and rejecting it outright. "I don't people."

  "That's perfectly fine, because, as I said, he's fae."

  I gestured between us. "This thing we're doing right now—with the talking—this is as good as my social skills get."

  Ava waved that fact away. "You talk greedy fae into handing over objects they don't want to pa
rt with every day as part of your job!"

  "And I pride myself on not bringing my work home with me." Seriously. Bringing dangerous enchanted objects around Phoebe was a horrible idea. She either saw it as a weapon for her latest prank, or as a danger to her tree. Neither way went well. "Besides, if I fail at the talking thing, I can just take what I need, and have the backing of the bureau to do it. If they resist, I can fight them. I prefer the stealing, actually. It's fun to imagine the looks on their faces when they find their coveted widget is gone." I liked to leave a copy of the warrant in its place, nice and official-like. "Seriously, Ava, I can't do a job that depends on me talking."

  "Well, lucky for you, conversation is barely required." She looked pointedly down at my breasts which were covered in a dark purple t-shirt. "Those, however, will have to be on their best behavior."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  This was not a plan I would have designed. I tried to come up with a reason not to trust Ava. Could she be leading me into some kind of trap? Was this a prank? Did Phoebe somehow contact Ava and set this up to make a fool out of me? None of that made sense; all of it felt like paranoia. Or excuses. Ava, unsettling as she could be, had always been good to me. But, seriously, there was nothing about this plan that wasn't awful. I was going to convince some important, rich, powerful guy we should have sex so he would take me back to his home and I could rob him.

  It was my job to recover dangerous magical objects, and something like half of those items were stolen. I punished thieves for a living. That fact was not lost on me. But, I had to do this. I needed that information to control my magic, so I wasn't a risk to the general public. Not killing people was way higher on the morals scale than not robbing them.

  Whatever. I'd send the book back to him as soon as I could, or at least something of equal value.

  Moral bargaining. Always a sign I was on the right path. Righteous agent of the law, that was me.

  At Ava's suggestion, I'd dug through my wardrobe and found the most revealing clothes I owned. I was naturally warm and having to carry my clothes in my crow form meant that most of my outfits were already small enough to earn a cluck of the tongue from more conservative types. Ava said that wasn't good enough. "Skanky" was the word she used. Awfully judgmental for someone always showing off her belly button. I found a light gray t-shirt that had shrunk way more than I expected in the wash and slid it on. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it drew a lot of attention to my boobs. That was the goal as Ava had given it.

  I look good, I thought, and then, Ugh. But will other people think so? I hated trying to make people like me. "That's why I never do it." My reflection smirked back at me. I brushed down my shirt, like that would do anything at all, and gave myself another look. A glint of ruby caught my eye. The necklace did work with everything. My gaze drifted lower. Were boobs really that important in this equation? How much would he even look at my boobs anyway? Do heterosexual men like boobs? Is that really what I'm stuck on here? "It hasn't been that long since you've dated." Yes, okay, you're psyching yourself out. Clearly.

  "Yes, it has," Phoebe chimed in without ever making herself visible. Sometimes living with her was like having an annoying ghost for a roommate. "Are you going on a date?"

  I hadn't felt this out of my depth in a long time. "I'm going to Smoke and Mirrors," I reluctantly told her.

  "Ooooh," she said. "Good. You need to have some fun."

  I didn't know what she wanted me to say to that. I wasn't going to explain to her that this wasn't my idea of fun. "Do I look right?"

  Phoebe snatched a pair of scissors off the counter and clipped them through the air. "May I?"

  The dryad didn't wear clothes, and there I was, taking fashion advice from her. Lack of confidence left me walking blind, and I held my arms out in resignation. "Do your worst."

  She made quick work of my shirt, cropping it so a significant portion of my belly was exposed. I wasn't modest. I was a shifter, and I lived with Phoebe. My problem wasn't the bare skin, it was my whole plan depending on other people thinking well of me and my bare skin. Not caring what other people thought was the crutch I rudely stomped through their homes on.

  Phoebe disappeared again—not before slapping my ass—and gave a catcall of approval from wherever she invisibly perched. She'd gone too easy on me. I was sure to have a fresh prank to deal with when I got home.

  With a short skirt and a pair of low heels, I made my way to the waiting cab and glanced longingly at my motorcycle. She was the best thing humans had ever done for me, and I don't discount indoor plumbing or surfboards. We didn't get out together nearly enough, but I had to keep my hair in good shape if I was going to pull this thing off; between the helmet and the drizzling rain, Bliss wouldn't help me do that.

  As the human cab driver pulled up to the abandoned house, he looked almost as suspicious as when he'd stopped at what he saw as a stretch of lonely forest where The Arbor hid, concealed from human eyes with glamour. The Arbor was a small community for fae uninterested in the city or a life spent blending in with humans. Dressed differently, I could have told the driver I was hiking. As I was, I said nothing, and he hadn't asked. The abandoned house must have pushed his curiosity too far, because his brow creased when he asked, "You sure this is the place?"

  "I'm sure." I paid him and left the car behind, avoiding the wide puddles. He politely waited until I was out of splashing range before driving away.

  The air was cool and the rain had taken a brief break. The urge to shift prickled my skin; I wanted to feel the breeze ruffle my feathers. Tonight though, I had other plans.

  The surrounding open field was ugly if stared at for too long, but mostly it appeared plain, barren, boring. Not something anyone would want to look at twice. I certainly wasn't going to. Closing my eyes, I pulled my magic up behind my lids. It wasn't really how the second sight worked, but it was how I thought of it. When I opened my eyes, the world had changed. My second sight broke through the glamour that kept humans from seeing a fae city wedged into a space too small to hold it. Volarus was at least ten miles across as the crow flies. The human map said the unused land was five miles at its widest. The city dwelled in other Earth locations, some even smaller. Volarus wasn't explained so much as it just was.

  If humans could see the city, they wouldn't think too much of it as far as architecture was concerned. It was a bustling metropolis that didn't fit in with the small towns surrounding it, but there weren't castles floating in the sky or anything. What there were though, is a boatload of fae, no earthbound glamours required.

  While many fae lived in the city, for most it was a waypoint. Portals were plentiful in Volarus, you just had to find them, if you were so inclined. Open a janitor's closet, push on the right wall, find yourself in a bathroom in New York City, or smack dab in the middle of Faerie. Volarus served as a place of business, a place for fae on Earth, a piece of Earth for those in Faerie. Every fae, at some point or another, found themselves in Volarus.

  Of course, it had taken me a long time to get there. Banshees lived at Wailing Lakes, a beautiful community an hour out of Arcata, and firmly on Earth. They had little use for the rest of Earth, or Faerie, or Volarus. Wailing Lakes was their whole world, their own world, and I... Well, I wasn't a banshee, but I grew up with my sisters. Close enough. Anyway, no one was inviting me over to their place in Volarus, and whenever I attempted to wander the streets alone I wound up in trouble. I typically limited my Volarus trips to the familiar, which amounted to FAB headquarters. It was only a block away from the abandoned house entrance.

  I stepped out of the familiar alley onto an unfamiliar street and was almost trampled by a stampeding unicorn. Its horn glinted red in the moonlight. The smell of lemons washed over me in its wake. What the hell? Unicorns never came into the city. They lived in the wilderness, loved open spaces and living in herds. A unicorn running through the city. There was a story there, and it wasn't a good one. A few seconds later, a couple of suits skidded to a halt in
front of me.

  "Official FAB business! Did a unicorn just run through here?" asked the taller of the two. He had at least three feet on his partner, and a foot on me. A thick beard hung from his chin almost to his waist. The smell of cold stone and snow swirled around him. His partner smelled of fresh cut grass. A hill giant and a gnome, if my nose served me right.

  I pointed the way the unicorn had gone and the giant dashed off, cracking a few cobblestones as he ran. I hooked the gnome's arm, aiming to satisfy my curiosity. "What the hell has a unicorn running through the street like its tail is on fire?"

  The agent watched his friend sprint away and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He looked eager to talk instead of continuing the chase. "Somebody thought it would be funny to dose it up with something and ride it into the city. When the drugs wore off, the unicorn lost its shit. Started impaling people. Couldn't even talk. Just made this nasty scream. Killed the asshole and all of his friends. Didn't even use its magic. Just impaled them with its horn and stomped on a few. We're just trying to get it out of the city before it does something it will regret."

  A deep, booming shout drew his attention and he dashed after his partner.

  Just another night in Volarus. It had its own charm that was for sure. I couldn't imagine living in its borders full time though. I'd been there two minutes and my senses were already overloaded.

  I continued down the street, renewing my focus on the directions Ava had given me. My clutch felt awkward under my arm. I had to squeeze it shut to get my phone and a credit card in there. Risking spilling its meager contents on the street, I pried apart the clasp and retrieved the picture Ava gave me of a cocky man with light brown hair with a hint of bronze. He smiled like he was undressing someone with his eyes. That worked for a lot of people, but I found it irritating, even in portrait. I had the strong urge to draw a tongue sticking out of his mouth or put a silly hat with flowers on him. Anything to lighten the man up. Ava hadn't told me how she knew the guy, but from the way she talked about him and his annoying good looks, I assumed him to be an ex-lover. Judging by the way she talked about the women he brought home from the club, probably a cheating ex-lover. I wouldn't be losing any sleep over stealing a book from the guy who cheated on Ava.