by Ann Gimpel
Trying a different tack, I purred, “Put the gun down.”
His finger tightened on the trigger about the time I sensed others gliding toward him. Others who weren’t human. That explained why the oversized clown facing me hadn’t complied with my orders. A quick prod rendered the warding around him visible. At least my desire for Cyn receded as I studied the problem. Thank the goddess for small favors.
Very few magic-wielders inhabit Earth. Something about the warp and weft of the energy here isn’t compatible with power. If we remain long, our ability ebbs until it’s mostly gone. If you pay heed to legends, some longstanding Earth dwelling mages ended up here because their power never returned.
Two shifters, a Witch—a real one—and a wizard were heading my way. Why had they bothered with the drunk?
“Show yourselves.” I spread my hands in front of me, power flickering between them.
“What the fuck?” The mortal stared at me. Fear contorted his features into a Halloween mask. I turned up the lumens on my otherworldly aspects; the acrid stench of piss pricked my nose. Pistol still clutched in one hand, the hapless fool shambled into as close to a run as he could manage. At least the air was cleaner after he left.
“Dariyah.” The Witch closed on me. White hair framed her seamed face, but she stood tall, her body not yet bent by age. The shifters morphed into their animal forms, a larger-than-life raven and a red fox. They flanked the Witch like a metaphysical honor guard.
Not much point denying it was me since a truth spell had dropped over my head. To hell with that. Ignoring the Witch’s use of my true name, I asked, “Why’d you draw that poor sod into whatever this is?”
“We had to make certain it was you,” the wizard replied. Garbed in white robes with a pointed hat and a flowing gray beard, he looked like a reincarnation of Gandalf.
“Your glamour is more difficult to pierce than one that only covers physical traits,” the Witch explained as if she were imparting a prime bit of information I didn’t already know. I’d picked the Witch veneer to hide behind because it was pretty much bombproof. Pretty much. Apparently not so ironclad when I wasn’t on top of my game, but this batch couldn’t have figured out what I am. If they had, they’d be chattering like a flock of outraged magpies.
“So if it hadn’t been me, that fuckstick would have shot the not-me,” I sputtered.
“We would have stepped in.” The wizard added a calming patina to his words. I saw a spell floating in the air.
I rolled first one shoulder back and then the other. “Why were you hunting me?”
“We carry a message from Oberon.” The Witch switched to a shielded form of telepathy. I don’t know why she bothered. We were the only magical creatures in a forty league radius. Except Cyn, and I was damned certain his focus lay elsewhere.
“Tell him I’m not ready to leave yet.” I flapped a hand their way. As a mage for hire, if I left now it would void the contract and give Oberon, notorious skinflint that he was, an excuse to stiff me on my fee.
“He says you’re done.” The wizard was still pumping out calming vibes.
I rounded on him. “I say I’m not.”
The raven cawed; the fox made little yipping sounds. I could have dug into their minds, but I wasn’t in the mood.
“He figured you’d be stubborn,” the Witch cut in. “He was most clear. If you back away now, he’ll honor half your agreed-upon contract amount.”
I looked askance at her. “And if I don’t?”
“Then you get nothing,” The wizard sounded almost cheerful. I doubled up a fist and considered driving it into his face.
Anger bubbled, burning a trail through me. Four against one weren’t great odds, but I could take them. As soon as that little tidbit kicked me in the butt, I knew I’d push this puppy as far as I could. Oberon only thought I reported to him. He’d abandoned Faery and his subjects in a snit. Ever since then, he’d hired a succession of spies to keep an eye on his erstwhile realm. I was merely the most recent in a long string. Everyone else had quit, and now I knew why.
What happened next wasn’t the smartest move I’ve ever made, but I was steamed. “You tell Oberon this,” I snarled. “I shall complete my task. If he refuses to honor his agreement with me, I will tell Cynwrigg everything. He’s the de facto regent, and he has a right to know.”
The four mages had moved into what was clearly a prearranged formation while I talked. I was ready for them, though. I shot the raven out of the air with a blast of earth-tinged air. Before it hit the ground, I locked the fox into a fiery cage. It’s squeals were pathetic, but I shut my ears.
Unlike most mages, I control all the elements. Born of a forbidden Fae-Sidhe pairing, I was lucky to be alive. Others like me had been ferreted out at birth—or before—and dealt with. Mother—the Fae half of things—had kept me safe until I was old enough to manage on my own. I imagine she was still in hiding since whoever brought her to justice would collect a fat purse.
We’d said goodbye hundreds of years before. I’d known I’d never see her again, but I still missed her. It was lonely life when you didn’t fit anywhere, and of course Faery was barred to me. I had no idea who my father was. Mother never told me. After a time, I quit asking.
I can ferret out who everyone else’s magical parents are, just not my own.
The wizard was edging nearer, a determined expression on his face. The Witch hadn’t moved since I’d taken out the shifters. I waggled my fingers at both of them. “What’ll it be? I leveled the field nicely. Two against one are no odds at all. Choice time ends in five seconds. Five. Four. Three. Two…”
The Witch punched out in a shimmery red haze. Apparently Wizard-Boy decided he didn’t want to face me alone. He shook a fist my way. “You’ll be sorry.”
“Quaking in my boots, buddy. Quaking, I tell you.” By the time I was done laughing, he was gone.
The fox was still screaming; the bird was still out cold. I took pity on them and dismantled the power holding them prisoner. Casting nervous glances my way, the fox shifted back to his human form. Of course, his clothing lay in shreds, but he didn’t pay it any heed. Scooping the bird into his arms, he teleported to points unknown leaving me scratching my head.
Why had Oberon pulled the plug? I was well within the timeframe of our agreement. Jobs weren’t so easy to come by, not ones that actually let me be who I was. I’ve never done well flipping burgers or being a secretary. The king of Faery was an enigma for sure. Maybe he’d pulled this stunt with all his hired spies—to avoid paying them. Maybe. No amount of pondering would yield the answers I needed.
My apartment wasn’t far. A basement walkup, it offered easy access to magical channels leading away from Earth and an equally ready way to replenish my power. The adrenaline rush was fading, and I felt stupid. Kicking Oberon’s lackeys halfway back to Faery had been satisfying as fuck, but woefully shortsighted. They’d tell him exactly what I’d said, and Oberon would send new troops after me. More competent ones than this bunch of dipshits had been. I didn’t understand how the king still had underlings at his disposal, but it wasn’t important.
Yeah, it is, an inner voice spoke up.
Fine. I’d think more on it later. Too weary to bother with keys, magic, or the door to my flat, I flowed through its walls and sucked in the cozy cinnamon and vanilla smell of the place I’d called home for a few months. It was one room with a mattress on the floor in one corner and a computer on a desk in another. The kitchen was separated from the main room by a curtain and was as basic as kitchens came. No problem since I’m not much of a cook. Or one at all.
A tiny bathroom completed my digs. At least they were cheap. Money wasn’t a problem. I could knock over an ATM machine whenever I wanted, but I concealed my illegal activities, so they remained strictly under wraps. Preserving a very low profile kept me out of everyone’s gunsights—for the most part.
I pulled open the door to my postage-stamp-sized fridge. Two cans of Coke and a cardboard co
ntainer of leftover Chinese leered back at me. I grabbed one of the Cokes and an energy bar from the cupboard. It tasted like sawdust, but the nutritional data printed on its wrapper promised great things. I had my doubts. Mortals’ love affair with turning food into something four times removed from its source ingredients would be the death of them.
Things were already trending that way. The current generation wasn’t living as long as the previous one. I blamed what they ate when I thought about it at all. Mortals were the least of my problems. I hunkered into a crouch, back supported by a wall.
I’d leave my lair, trading it for the spot I replenished my power, soon. First, though, I had decisions to make. Why had I been so obstinate about spying on Cynwrigg? Was it because I’d been hoping for a quick fuck?
That would have been a nice, neat answer. It would have allowed me to pull up stakes and walk away. Unfortunately, things weren’t so simple. The Fae fascinated me. The longer I’d watched him, the more intrigued I became until I could barely wait until the next evening and my trip to Lady Luck.
I dropped my head into my hands and rubbed my temples. A brisk mwroww snapped my head around. Midnight, the black cat who’d adopted me, strolled across my almost empty room and crawled up my side, digging his claws in along the way. When he got to my shoulders, he draped himself across them, purring up a storm.
I wriggled a hand into position and stroked his soft head. The purring increased, soothing my agitation. “Will you ever tell me how you get in and out?” I asked.
“Mrowwwww.”
I chuckled. “Yeah. Didn’t think so. Some secrets are worth dying for.”
Kitty-Boy was weakly magical, but then most cats are. He’d come with the flat. Been waiting the day I moved in. I’d viewed it as a lovely coincidence, but was it? I’d just accepted the job from Oberon. It was why I’d moved here. No other reason anyone in their right mind would want to live in this godforsaken desert peppered with neon and desperate gamblers certain one more spin of the wheel would fix them up for life.
Midnight had settled in and dozed off, body curved around mine. I took care, was as gentle as I knew how when I probed his feline consciousness. I wanted to be wrong, wanted him to be just a cat who’d lived here before I rented the place, but my suspicions were running high.
Oberon was a sketchy piece of work. From what I’d seen of Titania—and it had only been from afar of necessity—she had scruples, ethics. Two items her husband lacked. My journey through the cat’s mind was uneventful, filled with mice and rats and food dishes. I saw humans and a fluffy tabby with kittens. Presumably, Midnight was the proud daddy.
I’d gotten to where I was breathing a big sigh of relief Oberon hadn’t sicced the cat on me to monitor my movements when I stumbled across a place that wasn’t kitty-like at all. As soon as I found it, I knew exactly what it was. A reflective device to transmit information.
Calm, an inner voice suggested silkily. Keep calm.
Breath rattled in and out as I hung on to my temper. I could injure Midnight if I blew a gasket while I was connected to him. This wasn’t his fault. He was an innocent pressed into service without his knowledge. I started to withdraw, but held off.
What should I do about the device?
If I destroyed it, Oberon would know I was onto him, but he’d know soon enough anyway. After the Witch and wizard bent his ear about our run-in—and my threat to chat it up with Cyn. Hell, he probably knew already. I liked the cat. Respected him. He was too good to be used like this.
Before I thought it to death, I measured the spot carefully, focused a tiny beam of magic, and neutralized Oberon’s beacon. Oblivious, a still-purring Midnight slept on. Excellent. The cat would never know, but Oberon was likely fuming. He’d have felt the moment I clipped through the enchantment powering his one-way mirror. Still treading carefully, I completed my retreat and sealed over evidence I’d ever been there.
Assured the cat was safe, I allowed fury I’d suppressed to rage through me. Even if Cyn didn’t fascinate me, Oberon’s underhanded efforts to watch my every move pissed me off. Worse than that, I was appalled. And I felt dirty. Like I’d been victimized by some pervert getting his rocks off watching me.
“Don’t get mad, get even,” I mumbled. Determination edged out anger, winning the day.
I’d tell Cynwrigg everything. He’d have a right to demand my head on a pike for talking shit about his king. And for being a forbidden half-breed. Nothing I could do about what I was. This wasn’t about me. Oberon had exited stage left, not precisely lying, but neither was he being forthright about his whereabouts to his subjects.
I knew more or less where he was, and I’d make certain Cyn did as well.
I transferred the cat to my arms, stood, and carried him to the bed. Thinking he might fall in love with the leftover Chinese, I transferred it into a cracked ceramic bowl and left it next to his water dish. By the time I was done, he was on his feet, hunched over the bowl, and eating with enthusiasm.
“Good hunting, boy,” I told him and melted through a wall. If things played out as I suspected they would, I’d need all the magic I could lay my hands on. Once I was done topping off my tank, I’d eat and rest.
But not at my flat. It was the first place Oberon would deploy henchmen hunting me. I wasn’t worried about the cat. Whoever pursued me would leave as soon as they determined I wasn’t there. My best bet would be to remain in the in-between place until it was time to go to Lady Luck tomorrow afternoon.
Spinning a concealment spell, I covered my tracks so well no one could have found me.
4
Chapter Four, Cyn
Considering how little I accomplished, the day passed quickly. No one reported anything unusual to the court. I call it a court, but it’s more like a council. I preside over all the critical decisions, but a rotating crew of twelve mages serve as delegates. We rely on democratic process these days. One mage. One vote. When Oberon and Titania were in residence, they’d frequently pulled rank, ignoring whatever accord the rest of us had developed. It led to hard feelings, but they’d ruled us forever, and we were used to them.
When I took over as regent, I never felt right standing in front of a group of my peers and telling them it was my way or the highway. I reserved that level of high-handedness for the Lady Luck casino. It needed managing far more than Faery did. Up until recently, Faery hadn’t required much of anything at all.
I looked for Aedan before I crossed the barrier back to Earth, but he’d left. Or maybe he had nothing to say and was avoiding me. Not because he didn’t like me but because I served as a visceral reminder of the troubles facing us. I didn’t blame him. One advantage of Oberon’s style was he took care of everything in his own way.
We trusted him to take care of us, maybe not in the same manner we would have, but his bond to Faery and its people had been unbreakable. I still didn’t understand how he could have walked out on us, but I didn’t expect he’d ever return.
Which meant I’d have to up the ante and figure out where he was. He could parley with Faery, calm the distraught land, and remind her of her job providing a home for all of us.
At least I’d cleaned up, donned fresh clothes, and was ready to pick up the reins at Lady Luck. Hoping nothing else had turned to shit during the hour I’d skated out of there the previous night, I rode a magical conduit to Earth’s side of the barrier and mounted the stairs leading to the casino, making certain my glamour was in place. It was just shy of five when I strode into my office expecting either a crowd of staff with issues or a pile of notes—electronic and on paper.
Nothing looked any worse than usual. No one was standing at my door, waiting impatiently. I snagged my phone out of a drawer and took a quick peek at its contents. The work crew I’d pressed into service had done a decent job. Tatiana said the chamber would be ready to go for tonight’s activities.
Rudy and the other pit bosses had filled out the daily tally sheets. Despite the brawl, last night had netted
us well over a hundred thousand dollars before expenses. Our breakeven point was forty thousand, so the club was comfortably solvent.
I was just congratulating myself for having escaped unscathed from leaving early when the tantalizing scents belonging to the Witch made my nose twitch. I hadn’t exactly forgotten about her, but I hadn’t expended any time at all planning for how to deal with her request to work here, either.
Probably just as well. I didn’t have to dig too deep to know she’d be nothing but trouble. I’d never be able to trust her with her charms and spells. She’d always be up to something, and I did not need any more on my overflowing plate. The immediate future meant less time at the casino as I upped my game searching for the rift. Witchy-babe couldn’t be here without me to supervise. Goddess only knew what havoc she’d wreak.
No need to prepare anything elaborate by way of refusals. This would be a short, sweet no.
She stopped on the other side of my closed door and knocked. There wasn’t any reason to hide magic from her, so I sent a jolt that opened the door. She hovered in the doorway, appearing tentative, but it was only an act. Subservient wasn’t part of her character.
“This is the right time, isn’t it?” she asked. “If you need me to wait outside, I can.”
My magic wasn’t the only jolt. Gods, she was even more stunning than I remembered. She’d ditched the sheer clothing for a plain white blouse and long black skirt that clung to her slender waist and the curves of her hips. A simple gold necklace spanned her neck. Red tresses hung to waist level in a cascade of curls, and her green eyes were enhanced with the smallest application of makeup.
“No need to wait. Come on in.” I kept my tone gruff to conceal my delight at her presence.
She glided inside and shut the door behind her. When she turned to me, she said, “Thanks for the opportunity.”
