The Cursed Fae (Accessory to Magic Book 2)

by Kathrin Hutson

  Now she couldn’t even see.

  ‘Fuck the permission rule. I got this!’

  Jessica barely felt the icy-cold sting of the foreign magic tearing through her body as the bank took over. The wavering, diminishing tendrils of her reduced magic flickering around Mickey’s wrists shuddered and hardened into bright-blue spikes. They pierced the red-aura shield around the Matahg’s flesh, and Mickey bellowed in pain and rage.

  All she saw was a flash of blue light blinding her vision, and then she was flying across the room toward the back hallway. She landed painfully on her shoulder and hip, skidding halfway into the wall at the back of the lobby and gasping for breath.

  Mickey’s burst of red energy flared around the room again as he tried to absorb the bank’s magic attacking him through Jessica’s body. Bright-blue lines of snaking energy coursed around the Matahg’s figure. Whether it was a trick of her oxygen-deprived brain or a literal part of the bastard’s magic, the air inside the bank shuddered like a mirage made real, and the walls creaked and groaned again in protest.

  ‘Go! Up the stairs!’

  The bank’s shout knocked some sense back into her, and Jessica scrambled to get her feet under her and some semblance of balance again.

  ‘Get to your stupid box!’

  He’ll follow me.

  Even as she scrambled down the hall, bumping from side to side like a bowling ball bouncing between gutter guards, she knew it was a bad idea. She couldn’t let Mickey find the Gateway upstairs, unprotected, waiting for the right magical to come along and pry open the door. Or the wrong magical.

  Still, that thought didn’t stop her from scrambling as fast as she could toward the banister at the staircase’s bottom landing.

  ‘You just get to the bedroom. I’ll handle the rest.’

  She heard Mickey’s thunderous footsteps behind her. How was he so fast?

  “You’re always running away,” Mickey growled. “That’s no way to live. I’m doing you a favor.”

  A lance of searing heat struck Jessica in the back, right between her shoulder blades. She screamed and flew forward, her head bashing painfully against the wall at the end of the hallway.

  ‘Get upstairs!’

  She could hardly move. Even her hands wouldn’t obey as she tried to reach for the banister to pull herself up the steps.

  “The stairs?” Mickey roared with laughter as he stalked after her down the hall, and the bank’s walls shuddered again in response. “What happened to your ruthlessness, Jessica? I know I couldn’t break you quite the way I wanted, but I had no idea you were so—”

  Another brilliant blaze of blue light shot from both walls of the hallway, sizzling through the air and crashing into the Matahg from both sides. Mickey bellowed and thrashed within the snaring net of the bank’s magic.

  Now. Jessica had to move now.

  She forced her legs up the stairs.

  ‘I can’t hold him forever. Go!’

  Mickey sliced at the wall with his blood-red claws, goring massive slashes in the plaster.

  The bank screamed in Jessica’s mind, and she crumpled beneath the sound and the air being sucked out of her lungs again and the realization that she’d been a complete fucking idiot. She’d had every chance in the world to do this right—a second chance, a fresh start—and she’d blown it all because she couldn’t hold it together and face Mickey like a witch with any brains whatsoever. All because she’d torn who she was right out of her veins and locked it in the box upstairs.

  ‘Jessica.’ The bank’s voice was weak. Terrified. ‘I can’t…’

  Mickey slashed through the electrical jolts of the bank’s crackling magic, tearing down even more chunks of plaster and wall. Then the blue light stopped altogether.

  The bank didn’t say a word.

  “You put your trust in things you don’t understand,” Mickey growled, lumbering toward her. “But you understand death, don’t you?”

  His fingers closed around her ankle, and he jerked her painfully down the two stairs she’d managed to climb.

  Jessica kicked out at him right before she saw his shifting, bony hand come down toward her face. The impact of his open-handed slap knocked her head back against the floor with a vicious crack, and everything else around her faded into one endless pit of pain.

  From somewhere very far away, she heard the bell over the front door of Winthrop & Dirledge jingle harshly. She heard Mickey’s surprised snarl. Felt her foot thump back to the floor as he whirled around to face the idiot who thought now was a good time to step into her bank and break up the most pitiful fight of her life. And probably the last.

  “Get out,” Mickey snarled.

  ‘Jessica. Get up.’

  She couldn’t.

  ‘You’re not even trying, witch. Forget the pain. You know how. You’ve done it before. Get up and get to that box—’

  A low voice rose from the front of the lobby, steady and sure and muttering words Jessica couldn’t even pretend to recognize. Had she hit her head that hard?

  Mickey’s low chuckle filled the hallway, receding as he stepped back toward the lobby. The new voice continued its foreign words, growing steadily louder by the second. The Matahg’s laughter diminished into a feral snarl. “I said get out!”

  Jessica tried to push herself off the floor, but the lancing pain through her back and the throbbing pulse in her head made the slightest movement excruciating. She gritted her teeth and tried again.

  “That incantation is useless,” Mickey hissed. “That’s the problem with the old regime. None of you understand the differences on this side, and now you’ll—”

  A deafening roar filled the bank, followed instantly by crackling jolts of unleashed magic crashing into the walls, the floors, the shelves, and Mickey.

  “I believe that’s where you are…mistaken.” The newcomer said it through clenched teeth, his voice rising above the trembling groan of the bank’s walls shuddering beneath the massive spell.

  Jessica knew that voice, didn’t she?

  But she didn’t know anyone stupid enough to take on a Matahg all on their own. Except for her, apparently.

  Mickey’s guttural growl shoved through the pulses of bright violet light filling the lobby.

  Jessica managed to slither around on the floor, her cheek sliding across the varnished wood until she saw nothing but the blinding violet light and the thin silhouette of the magical casting the spell. Blocking half of it was Mickey’s massive form, hunched forward, hands outstretched to ward off the spell building right in front of him as he took step after massive, crashing step.

  “She’s mine,” he snarled.

  “It does not look that way,” the stranger growled.

  “You can’t—”

  A final blinding flash of silver burst through the violet light like a spear and struck Mickey squarely in the chest. The Matahg grunted and flew backward to crash against the stuffed shelves behind the desk. It sounded like the entire shelf came tumbling down on top of him, but the tinkle of shattered glass and the bouncing of random wooden, metal, glass, and cloth items finally settled down. Then the lobby fell eerily silent as the violet light shrank around the silhouette of Jessica’s apparent rescuer.

  Which was odd. Because no one had stepped through that front door in the last two weeks to actually help her. Maybe all it took was a battle with the wrong Matahg she should never have started.

  That was the last coherent thought she had before her eyes refused to stay open. With her cheek already smooshed up against the wood floor and her body pulsing with agony, Jessica puffed out a sigh and let herself lay there. Just for a few seconds. Maybe she could pull up enough strength while whoever stood in the lobby distracted Mickey for just long enough.

  Her old boss growled, though it sounded tired now. Faded. A groan escaped him, and his next words sounded much farther away than just at the end of the narrow hall.

  “How?”

  “I’ve been here much longer than yo
u, múrg,” the stranger replied. “I know the differences very well, and I daresay I am responsible for a good portion of them.”

  Jessica tried to open her eyes. That voice. She couldn’t think…

  A shuddering breath tore from Mickey’s throat. “Laen’aroth.”

  And she’d heard that word before too, hadn’t she? Where?

  “I believe you’ve overstayed your welcome,” the stranger said tersely. “You may see yourself out.”

  More fallen merchandise crumbled and shifted as Mickey removed himself from the pile of magical artifacts.

  For a moment, Jessica thought he wouldn’t leave. There was no sound of footsteps, no reemergence of more magic to continue the fight. Mickey didn’t give up just like that. Obviously.

  But then the bell above the bank’s front door jingled, paused, and jingled again as it smacked back down against the frosted glass. Then everything was silent.

  Good. Now she was alone, lying uselessly on the floor at the back of the hall, with no one to interrupt her. Because now all Jessica wanted was to slip off into the dark oblivion calling for her. Then her body wouldn’t hurt so much. Then, if she ever came out of this, she’d be able to think again with a clear mind.

  Stupid. She’d been so stupid.

  ‘Jessica…’ The bank’s voice was feeble and weak, but at least it was there. ‘I can’t do that again anytime soon.’

  Do what?

  It was amazing she could even think directly to the bank. That her mind worked at all beneath so much pain and the world spinning around and around despite the fact she was on the floor.

  ‘Protect you. I’m sorry. You’ll have to handle this one on your own. I need a few…’

  What? A few what?

  She couldn’t handle anything on her own right now. Couldn’t the bank see that?

  ‘Jessica, don’t let him get…’

  Slow, halting footsteps staggered toward her. Jessica tried to open her eyes and only managed it by the barest sliver. The overhead light in the hallway blinded her, then it was snuffed out immediately by a shadow looming over her.

  No, not a shadow. That was a body. Someone was still here.

  “Don’t…” It came out of her as a dry, raspy croak. She tried to wave off whoever it was hunkering down in front of her and blocking all the light. Her back and head screamed at her in protest.

  “Jessica.” It was the stranger. The one with the voice she recognized. The one Mickey had called Laen’aroth, and she’d heard that name before, hadn’t she? “Jessica, can you hear me?”

  Of course she could. But now she couldn’t even answer that simple question, because the dark void was sneaking up on her even as she realized she’d take consciousness and pain over being left here with this stranger, completely unable to defend herself. Completely alone.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jessica woke with a searing gasp that left her in a fit of hacking coughs. However long she’d been unconscious, it wasn’t long enough to remove the pain in her back and head. That had only gotten worse.

  She groaned and rolled over on the floor, trying to push herself up. But she wasn’t lying on the floor anymore. Not all the way. Something firm and warm was beneath her head, and when she opened her eyes, she saw shimmering silver fabric and the toe of one dusty black dress shoe.

  “What the—”

  “Steady now.” Cool fingers brushed against her wrist, making her lurch away before the aching throb in her head returned with full force, bursting behind her eyes.

  “Don’t…touch me.” Talking made her break out in rasping coughs again. She gasped two more times and shoved the cool hand away.

  “Don’t overdo it, Jessica. For your own sake and for mine.”

  What?

  She tried one more time to push herself up and realized only one of her hands pressed against the cool wooden floor. The other came down on someone’s leg.

  That someone grabbed her gently by the shoulders and helped to prop her up against the wall. She coughed again, took another rattling breath, then turned to look up at the stranger who’d burst into her bank not a moment too soon.

  Not a stranger.

  “Leandras?”

  The fae man gingerly rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes with an exhausted chuckle. “Oh, good. I was beginning to think I’d lost even that much clarity.”

  Now that she finally had her eyes open and her back against the wall instead of the floor, Jessica couldn’t stop staring at him. His silver-tinted eyes were sunken above dark circles, his already pale skin more pallid than the last time she’d seen him just a week ago. Disheveled brown hair spilled over his forehead in clumped strands, and his lips were cracked and dry. Had he lost weight?

  “You look awful,” she muttered.

  “You know, on any other occasion, I imagine I would have taken that as an insult. But today, I’m well aware of it as a statement of fact.” Leandras slowly turned his head toward her and gave her a brief once-over. “And I could say very much the same of you.”

  “Yeah, well, you saw what happened to me…”

  Jessica swallowed as the memory of her rage and Mickey’s attack returned full-force. And here was Leandras, the incomprehensibly stuck-up, infuriating fae who’d tried to weasel his way into her good graces a week ago only to find himself attacked by the bank, the Requiem, and another band of rogue magicals answering to Jensen Ardis. She’d been standing right beside him a week ago to fend them all off. But he’d waltzed right in here today to send Mickey packing all on his own while Jessica lay here at the foot of the stairs in a useless heap.

  “Not all of it,” Leandras added with a short, weak chuckle. “Merely the end. I imagine it wasn’t easy to last as long as you did against a Matahg of that caliber.”

  “Caliber.” She snorted, and it made her seize with another fit of coughing. When she finally settled back down and caught her breath, Leandras was staring at her with wide eyes, one hand lifted in preparation to support her, most likely. But he didn’t touch her, which was probably for the best. The guy didn’t look like he could support himself.

  “How did you manage it?”

  Jessica raised an eyebrow. “Getting my ass kicked by a Matahg?”

  “No, that part is easy enough to envision.”

  If she hadn’t been in so much pain, she would’ve shoved him over and told him to get the hell out of her bank. But that was more than either of them could physically manage at this point, and the vast majority of her attention was taken up by the raging migraine swelling behind her eyes and at the back of her head. Not to mention the searing heat blazing up her spine that worsened with the slightest movement. So instead, she rested her head gingerly against the wall just like the fae and closed her eyes. “Wow. Thanks.”

  Leandras cleared his throat. “I know you have a tendency to attract a certain level of conflict, Jessica. I imagine a good deal of it comes with the new role you’ve so effectively stepped into over the last few weeks.”

  She cracked open one eye and shot him a sideways glance. “Is there a point to this, or are you just trying to annoy me into oblivion?”

  “I merely mean to say…” He winced, shifted slightly against the wall, and took in a long, shaky breath. “I thought you were smart enough not to engage a Matahg like that on your own.”

  “Yeah. So did I.”

  “Ah. This wasn’t an isolated incident, I see.”

  Jesus. Even with both of them practically incapacitated on the ground, he was a serious pain in her ass.

  But he’d also just saved her life.

  Jessica was willing to call it even—her help in fighting off the warring factions of magicals who’d come for Leandras and the coin a week ago and the bank’s swift and efficient cleanup of all the bodies against his suddenly convenient reappearance at her bank to save the day like a damn knight in shining…satin.

  She glanced down at the crumpled pantleg of his satin suit and snorted again. This time,
it only made her cough once.

  Leandras took another deep breath. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Go ahead.” She readjusted her back against the wall, gritting her teeth against the new lance of pain racing up and down her spine. “You’re not wrong.”

  “Wonderful.” His throat clicked as he swallowed thickly. “Matahg are notoriously difficult to rile up to that extent, Jessica. What in the world did you do to upset him so much?”

  “Oh, it’s my fault, huh?”

  “I didn’t say that…”

  “Look, how I handle clients stepping into my bank is none of your business.” Jessica braced her hands against the floor and prepared to push herself up again. “It never has been.”

  “Jessica…”

  “So don’t think you can storm in here, blast a Matahg right out the front door, and start demanding answers ’cause you think I owe you now—” Her legs buckled beneath her, and she crashed back against the wall with a strangled cry.

  Fuck, something was seriously wrong with her back. Had Mickey actually tried to gut her open with that last attack?

  Hissing through clenched teeth, she sank back down to the ground and let all the tension snake out of her limbs. Or as much tension as she could release when she felt this shitty. Something had to be broken or at least split open.

  They sat together in silence for a moment longer, then Leandras let out another heavy sigh. “I wouldn’t say you owe me, per se…”

  “Good. Because we’re even now.” When she turned to look at him, she found the fae’s silver eyes gazing intently at her, his thin eyebrows drawn together in concern. He hadn’t tried to stop her from getting up or even to catch her when she’d thumped back down again. Which meant he didn’t just look like shit. This fae was in as bad of shape as Jessica. Maybe even worse. She tried to offer a small smile and could only manage a grimace. “Thank you, by the way.”

  “For leveling the score, is that it?”

  She rolled her eyes. “For…stepping in. I’m not sure I—”

  “No need.”

  When she shot him another sideways glance, his eyes were closed again. Maybe he really was as stuck up as he made it so easy to believe. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to hear her say she wasn’t sure she would’ve made it out of that desperate, astronomically stupid fight with Mickey all on her own. Come to think of it, Jessica didn’t want to hear herself say it, either.