by Helen Harper
Page 6
There was a sharp knock at the door. I marched over and flung it open, ready to give him a piece of my mind. It wasn’t a shifter standing there waiting, however, it was a mage – the one who was now trailing me around.
“What?” I snapped.
I probably should have softened my tone a bit as the poor guy looked absolutely terrified. He bent down and picked up a box then handed it to me. “Here. ” There was a definite tremor on his voice. “This is from the Arch-Mage. With his compliments. ”
I stared at him for a moment, then took the box. “Thanks. ”
The mage turned and virtually ran away back down the corridor. I closed the door, carried the box into the kitchen and unwrapped it. It was a coffee machine. State of the art by the look of it, and with several cartons of rich dark coffee included. I was tempted to throw it back out of the door, even though I’d forgotten to buy coffee on my way home and it would be more than handy to have around.
I shook my head to myself. “You are far too easily bought, Mack. ”
Sitting down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs, I eyed both the flowers and the coffee machine, wondering what Corrigan and the Arch-Mage thought they were trying to gain. Really, I should return the gifts: I didn’t want anyone to think I was a pushover. I reached out and touched the coffee machine. It was far nicer than anything I’d be able to afford myself. But I couldn’t accept it. And if I couldn’t accept the coffee machine, then I couldn’t accept Corrigan’s flowers either. The front door was another matter – that had been his fault in the first place. I picked both of them back up and was about to head outside to reluctantly hand them back to my babysitters when there was yet another knock.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I growled, dropping both the vase and the coffee machine back onto the table and stomping towards the door, flinging it back open.
It was the Fae this time. “Of course,” I said, sarcastically. “And what are you bringing?”
He bowed wordlessly and handed me over a small package, then elegantly twisted on his toes and left the same way as the terrified mage had. I sighed deeply, then opened it up. My eyes widened when I saw what it was though. Fuck. I closed my front door yet again and walked slowly back to the kitchen, laying it carefully on the table. I reached out to touch the paper and then snatched my hand back again. Well, I could hardly give the things back now. What the Fae had given me was a perfectly translated version of the Draco Wyr tome that I’d given to Solus – the very text that I’d been on the verge of contacting him about. I couldn’t dump it back in the arms of the anonymous Fae outside and then demand that Solus tell me what it was all about. And if I couldn’t give the Faes their gift back, then I couldn’t give the mages and the shifters theirs back either because they’d scream and shout that I was being unfair. This was freaking ridiculous; I really didn’t need to have to deal with the constant one-upmanship.
I rubbed my eyes. I was going to have sort this out and sit down with all three of them. If they wanted to follow me around then that was their prerogative, but they had to respect my space and had to stop buying me things. I understood that discovering a Draco Wyr in their midst had them all excited, but each and every one of them was going to have to tone it down. I wasn’t a toy. I pursed my lips and decided that first thing the next morning I’d contact them all. Enough was enough. Right now, however, I needed to clear my head and give myself some space before the simmer in my veins exploded into real flames. If I stayed here with the Fae text and as much coffee as I could drink in a month, then I’d be up all night reading it. I knew that I might not like what I read either. It could wait another day; instead I was going to go for a run and get some fresh air. The exercise would sort me out for now.
I pulled on my running gear as quickly as I could, then stuffed my shiny new key into my pocket and exited. I had no idea whether my Otherworldly babysitters were geared up for running or not, but it really wasn’t my problem. I shrugged to myself. If they could keep up, then bully for them. Without acknowledging their hovering presence on the other side of the street, I started to jog, slowly at first to warm up. One of the major drawbacks of living in a city was the number of roads and traffic lights that I’d be forced to wait for, so it made no sense to start pelting my way along in a sprint. At least there was a sizeable park not too far away.
It took around fifteen minutes to reach the park itself. The sky was already starting to darken, despite the fact that it was now summer and the nights were considerably lighter. It didn’t really make much difference to my run, but it might make it harder for my little troupe of followers to keep up. I grinned slightly to myself and began to speed up.
The park was fairly busy: numerous families out enjoying the last of the daylight, groups of kids playing games, and, of course, several joggers on the same track as myself. I did my best to ignore them, not wanting others to set a pace for me, and stayed on the tarmacked path for a while, but with the night drawing in it was becoming too annoying having to keep veering out of the path of those leaving so eventually I gave up and moved onto the grass. I cut round the bend, skirting the large trees then began to run more cross-country. It felt much more peaceful this way and I could almost imagine I was no longer in London, but instead out in the fresh air of the countryside. Keeping my breathing even, I picked up the pace further, and allowed my mind to empty. A couple of rabbits saw me coming and quickly scampered out of my way, dashing into nearby burrows. Other than that, and the distant hum of traffic, I felt as if I was completely alone.
Of course that was until I caught the flicker of green out of the edge of my eye. I frowned. It was too ephemeral and just too green to be a jogger. And there was no way that a tree or a bush moved like that. Interested, I headed in the direction of it. A small thought nagged at me that curiosity killed the cat, but, let’s face it, I needed something to take my mind off all my other humdrum worries. However, when I reached the area where I’d thought I’d seen the flicker, there was nothing there. I heard some footsteps behind and, slowing to a jog, glanced round my shoulder. The Fae, naturally, was keeping up, although there was no sign of either the shifter or the mage. Either of them could of course draw on their Otherworldliness to produce a better showing, whether by casting a tracking spell or by shifting, but this was a pretty public area and I doubted that they would try it. Whatever might have been lingering in the trees had either been frightened off by my own approach or by the faerie’s. It was time to find out.
Without warning, I sped up again, this time using every ounce of energy that I had. I zigzagged to my right, hoping to confuse the Fae behind me. With lightning fast reflexes, there was little I could do to outrun him, but I was fairly confident that I could outsmart him. I’d been regularly using this park since we’d taken the lease over on the bookshop almost three weeks ago, and it wasn’t so large that I didn’t already know my way about it well. I knew that coming up was a small annex used to house gardener’s tools. It wasn’t the most pleasant of places and the local youths also tended to use it as a dumping ground for their discarded cans and bottles, but it would serve my purposes. I ran to the side of it, making it appear as if I was going to pass it by without a second glance, and then started to lean over to the right even more, as I knew that both the building and the trees would camouflage my actions. As soon as I thought I was hidden from view, I halted abruptly and wheeled round, stepping quietly towards the tree-lined side of the building, then pressed myself against the brickwork. Either this would work, and I’d be able to head back in the direction that I’d come to see if I could investigate the flicker further, or it wouldn’t and I’d just end up looking a bit stupid. Either way, it would make my run even more interesting.
I had made it just in time. The Fae loped past, with an even unbroken gait, and continued down the park and away from me. I punched the air in momentary exultation and then quickly pulled myself together and ran back the way I’d come, hopi
ng I’d have a chance to find out what the flash of green had been before either the mage or the shifter finally caught up, or the Fae realised what had happened.
When I reached the trees again, I came to a stop and looked around. Shit. There was nothing there. Either it had been my stampeding approach that had scared it off or I had been seeing things. Annoyed with myself, I turned back again to leave.
“Psssst!”
I spun round. What the hell had that been? I looked left and right, but couldn’t see a damn thing. If this was going to turn out to be a kid having a laugh I was going to be seriously pissed off. Then I heard it again.
“Psssssssst!”
Dawning realisation hit me, and I slowly lifted my head to look up. My eyes narrowed as I caught sight of something hanging in the branches, cleverly camouflaged by the leafy foliage of summer. Then, all of a sudden, a small, faintly green tinged face emerged, peering down at me.
“We don’t have long before they’ll be back. I have a message to give you. ”
My brow crinkled. “You’re a dryad. ”
She looked irritated. “Yes, of course I’m a dryad. What did you expect?”
Well, I supposed it kind of made sense that that’s what I’d find in amongst the trees, but dryads were notoriously shy. This one clearly not so much.
I ignored her question. “What’s the message?”
“Go five hundred steps due east from the Vale of Heath sign tomorrow night after twelve. Speak with Atlanteia. ”
“Who?” I was damned if I was going to go wandering around somewhere I didn’t know in the middle of the night without knowing who I was supposed to meet, or why.
“Atlanteia. ”
“Yes, I got that part, but who’s she?”
The dryad looked away from me and down the path. “They’re coming. Make sure you are alone tomorrow. ”
“Okay, but…”
She vanished. My eyes searched the branches for any sign of her at all; it was as if she’d never even been there in the first place. A dryad initiating contact? That had to be a first.
