The Cursed Fae (Accessory to Magic Book 2)

by Kathrin Hutson

  She stopped halfway down the hallway and leaned against the wall beside the witching vault’s shimmering green light. Then she noticed the text from Mel.

  Figured you wanted some space after last night. Whatever happened, Jess, I’m here. Just let me know. And don’t feel like you have to wait six months to reach out again.

  The last line made Jessica snort. It didn’t happen often, but when things got tense, Mel had a way of combining empathy and support with a fun little extra helping of mostly disguised insult.

  But she wasn’t entirely wrong, either. Jessica would just have to table the discussion with her friend about Jensen Ardis for a better time. So instead of ignoring the text altogether, she sent one back in reply.

  Thanks. Things are a little crazy at work, but when it settles down, we can talk. I’ll let you know.

  That was as much of a commitment as she could make to anyone right now, and Mel would just have to deal with it. Her new gallery exhibition would keep her busy for a while anyway. Which was a good thing, because now Jessica’s friend was finally moving on from all the other not-so-great choices they’d both made to stay busy when they were still running around with Corpus…

  Jessica frowned at her phone.

  ‘There it is.’ The bank chuckled. ‘Oh, yeah. I think I can even feel the gears turning in here. New plan, huh?’

  “More like a longshot,” she muttered. But a longshot was still a shot, and it was the only one she had at this point.

  Leandras didn’t know she was just as incapable as he was of storming into his house and taking out however many magicals were inside waiting for him. Not all on her own, and she wouldn’t have the bank’s magic to help her if she wasn’t inside the bank. Sure, she’d been really good at breaking into things before, back when that was who she was and what she did. Maybe even the best. But that was more with physical stuff. Lock-picking, cracking safes, getting into doors and windows most humans considered impossible to get into—and most magicals, too.

  That was what had made Corpus so unstoppable for so many years. They all had their own skill sets, and literally nothing had been able to stand in their way when everyone used those skills to get the job done. Until Mickey fucked it all up just to get back at her for Rufus.

  ‘So…you should probably text Mel again, right? Tell her about this awesome new plan?’

  No. Mel had to stay out of this. Maybe Jessica could convince the others that this was important enough to try again. Just one more time. But Mel wouldn’t be involved. If everyone did what they were supposed to do and this worked out the way it needed to, Mel wouldn’t even know.

  ‘How very altruistic of you. Keeping your…whatever she is to you out of trouble.’

  With a snort, Jessica took off up the stairs.

  Sure. Altruistic. She’d already done that before anyway, hadn’t she? The last time, it had landed her with a bunch of magical felonies and twelve months behind bars. This time would be different. She’d be saving a life—however aggravating Leandras was—and then she’d get her answers about the Gateway. The best part was that this time, there would be no Mickey.

  Just the thought of it seemed to lift a massive weight off her shoulders, and she took the stairs to her bedroom two at a time, ignoring the ache in her back and the slight warm tingle in her chest. There was still a good chance the others would be totally down for something like this. Because they’d all enjoyed it way more than they’d expected, once upon a time. They’d probably enjoy it even more knowing it was for a good cause.

  ‘Yeah, that’s one way to put it. The fate of two worlds on either side of the you-know-what I can’t talk about. A good cause.’

  Jessica had no problem ignoring the not-so-helpful comments. She raced toward the bedroom door, and as her hand closed around the doorknob, a brilliant flash of green light burst around the seam of the Gateway’s dungeon door on her left. It coiled and grew like smoke, casting that eerie green glow all over the upstairs hallway. A small tremble that felt like some kind of warning rippled across the floorboards. The Gateway let out a long, shuddering hiss.

  That couldn’t be good.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  ‘It’s not good,’ the bank whispered as Jessica stared at the green mist swirling beneath the Gateway door. ‘I can tell you that much at least.’

  “All the more reason for us to get to work and finish this.” Jessica flipped a middle finger at the smoking, glowing, hissing Gateway, then jerked open her bedroom door and hurried inside.

  No, there wasn’t a point to that other than it made her feel better. More in charge. More dedicated to this next step, and that was what she needed. Because she’d promised herself she would never go back to the life—not the one she’d lived with Corpus—and now that was exactly what she was doing so she could save a maddening fae’s life.

  ‘Hey, just think of him as a book or something. A box of answers. Turn him into a thing in your mind so you don’t have to worry about feelings.’

  Jessica snorted. “So you basically just want me to objectify him.”

  ‘Oh, that’s what that means…’

  Huffing out a laugh, she hurried toward her bed, hoping to whatever other entities out there who could hear her that all her things had been moved to her new home. She stopped abruptly beside her bed, knelt, and reached under the bedframe.

  Yep. There it was.

  A black plastic tote slid out from beneath the bed, and she sat back on her heels to open the lid.

  ‘What is it with you and putting all your important stuff in boxes?’

  “Where else am I supposed to put it?”

  ‘Hello? I can read your mind…’

  “Yeah, and I didn’t have you when I stuffed everything away.” She tossed the lid aside and rummaged through the haphazard stacks of folders, binders, spiral-bound notebooks, and loose-leaf papers. “Hey, but now that you mention it—”

  ‘Yes, Jessica. I am technically your photographic memory.’

  But most people or magicals didn’t have to ask the voice in their head to go through their memories to pull up said photographs. At least, she didn’t think so.

  ‘Guess we’ll never know. And neither will they.’

  Jessica had stopped paying attention to that nagging—and still surprisingly helpful at the right moment—voice. She was too focused on the small black journal she’d finally found beneath the stacks of useless paper and doodles and scattered thoughts written down. It was still here. Just like half of her magic in that tin box, she never thought she’d be using this again. But it was good to keep around, just in case. Like right now.

  ‘So you’re gonna dive back into that underwear drawer and grab the rest of what you need too, right?’

  “Nope.” She opened the journal and slowly flipped through the pages—bits of actual journal entries interspersed between random addresses, decoded messages, the occasional spell they’d put together on those slow nights spent either waiting for a new job to come in or a new piece of the current job’s plan to fall into place.

  Her flipping paused when she made it to the gorgeous sketch spanning across two pages. It was something of a self-portrait—Jessica and Mel facing each other with their arms around the other witch’s waist, both of their faces lit up with huge, laughing grins, eyes crinkled into slits. Damian had snapped that moment of them with an actual camera before it ever made its way onto these pages, surrounded by swirls and shaded lines and stars along the background.

  ‘No way in hell did you do this.’

  Jessica chuckled. No, she hadn’t. This wasn’t the first piece of Mel’s she’d seen, but it was the first Mel had given her. Right here in her own little book. And her friend had called this a doodle.

  ‘I mean, I can see it. Swirly lines and all. But seriously, you didn’t hightail it up those stairs to walk down memory lane. No matter how short it is. Get busy, witch.’

  “Can’t you just pull up the numbers yourself, Oh Mighty Photographic Memory?�
��

  ‘Not when you never paid attention to them in the first place. Let’s go!’

  Jessica smiled at the doodle, then flipped through the pages again until she stopped a little over the halfway mark. There they were. Names and numbers all laid out carefully in what used to be Jessica’s tidy handwriting. A growing tension in pretty much every moment of existence—which definitely wasn’t helped by a year in magical prison—had squashed her penmanship into something almost illegible these days.

  ‘Only compared to your own standards.’ The bank hissed in amusement. ‘Tabitha’s writing might as well have been a bunch of hair tossed down on paper. You wouldn’t believe how many things I had to rewrite for her just so she could find stuff.’

  “Yeah, I believe it.”

  She made her way down the list of names, wondering who to call first—Damian, Rebecca, Anthony, Cedrick, Rufus.

  Her heart sank a little to see Rufus’ name right there beside his phone number. But the other numbers, at the very least, were worth a shot. Mel’s number had stayed the same. Maybe theirs had too.

  Might as well work her way down the line from top to bottom.

  Damian’s number went straight to a recorded message saying the line had been disconnected. Great. One down.

  Jessica considered calling Rebecca next but figured she should probably save that one as a last resort. Who knew? Maybe the stuck-up elf who liked to flaunt all the money they’d made by wearing diamonds, of all the idiotic things she could’ve spent her money on, had changed enough in the last eighteen months that she was easier to get along with.

  Doubtful.

  So she punched in Anthony’s number next. The phone actually rang—once, twice, three times. Then the line clicked, and a gruff voice answered.

  “Yeah?”

  “Anthony?” Her fingers tingled when what she was doing finally sank in. She was actually reaching out, reconnecting, and not in a way that seemed like a pseudo friendly offer for lunch like it had been with Mel.

  “Uh-huh. Who’s this?”

  “Oh, man…” she whispered, unable to keep a nostalgic smile from growing. “It’s Jessica.”

  “Jessica…who?”

  “Northwood, dumbass.”

  Anthony snorted. “Nice try. If you knew anything about either of us, you’d know—”

  “I’m out.”

  The line went silent, then there was a loud thump, and the guy hissed. “I swear to the thirteen pillars of enlightened magical bullshit, if you’re fucking with me—”

  “I’m serious, man. It’s me. Come on, it’s not that hard to believe.” She couldn’t help another laugh. It probably was that hard to believe. No one expected her to be out so early. Especially without telling any of them. But that had been her plan all along, and now she’d abandoned that plan for necessary improvising.

  Now there was absolutely no sound coming from the other end of the line.

  “Anthony?”

  “Four years ago. Two fireproof data safes, one gnarly-ass Umbál, and you decided to go for the what?”

  Oh, so he was testing her, huh? Pretty smart, actually, after everything they’d been through.

  She knew he wasn’t looking for the real answer—that she’d snuck behind the fight to crack into both those safes while everyone else held off the security wards. What he wanted was the joke they’d made out of it afterward. “His ring and a homemade bomb.”

  “Holy shit! Jess!”

  “Hey.”

  “Fuck, man. You’re out? Like you’re really, really out?”

  “Yep.”

  Anthony barked out a laugh, and she could so easily picture his wide eyes and gaping grin as he ran a hand through his shaggy blond hair. “How is that even possible?”

  “Early parole for good behavior.”

  “You? You’re shittin’ me.”

  “Nope.”

  “Wow. I’m, like… I don’t even know what to say. Welcome back? Hey, have you talked to anyone else yet? ’Cause we need to fuckin’ celebrate. I was literally just about to run out to the liquor store anyway. We can order a pizza or something. Hell, I’ll even suffer through the torture of sushi if that’s what you want. This is awesome! What’re you doin’ now, man? How’re things goin’ now that you’re—”

  “I’m gonna stop you right there.” Jessica cleared her throat, her smile fading. “Not that I wouldn’t be down to catch up, but I’m a little busy with some stuff.”

  “Is it…normal stuff?”

  He was referring to anything else compared to what they’d all been doing together for just over four years before she’d been shipped off to MJ Pen. Even then, she couldn’t flat-out lie to the guy. “Kind of… I actually called to ask for a favor. A really big one, honestly. ’Cause I know I can’t handle this thing on my own. You up for a new project?”

  “Huh. Damn, Jess. I don’t know. I mean, if it’s with you, I wanna just jump up and say fuck yes. But it’s… I mean, don’t you have to stay kinda squeaky-clean for a while?”

  Not anymore. Not with her criminal record completely gone like Jessica Northwood didn’t even exist.

  ‘Hey, funny you should mention it—’

  Not now, bank. I’m on the phone.

  “It’s a pretty clean grab,” she said, automatically lowering her voice. “Just with a lot of disassembly required. And maybe a few swords. Honestly, Anthony, it’s kind of a life-or-death situation.”

  “Shit, are you okay?”

  “What? Oh. No. Not my life. Just a…friend’s.”

  “Friend.” Anthony cleared his throat. “Hell. You know I can’t say no to that. What do you need?”

  Great. This was the part that could still go south. But she had to try. “Everybody back together again for one last go. Tonight.”

  “Tonight.” He burst out laughing again. “Damn, Jess. You’re still a straight fuckin’ shooter. Yeah, I’m in. You want me to call around to everyone else?”

  “Actually, yeah. That’d be great. Help me get down the last few details. I’ll text you a meetup, okay?”

  “Hell yeah. Ha! And I thought Wednesdays were shit.” Anthony hung up on her without a goodbye or even hinting that the conversation was over. Just like he always had.

  Jessica huffed out a laugh and leaned back against the bed frame. She couldn’t believe it. Then again, a part of her really had no problem picking up right where she’d left off a year and a half ago. Going out like this with the rest of Corpus had made up the biggest part of who she was.

  ‘And so is that tiny, scuffed, dented box in the dresser with your magic—’

  “Drop it. I’m not touching that thing.”

  ‘But you’re gonna go into an outrageously protected fae house at half-capacity with a bunch of yahoos you don’t even know you can trust?’

  “I can trust them. That’s not the problem.”

  ‘Sure. Problem is you don’t trust yourself.’

  She sighed and dropped her hand holding her phone to the ground. “Can’t you just let me soak this in for a second?”

  ‘Hey, yeah. Take your time. No big deal. There’s just a dying fae downstairs with all the information we need, and the clock’s still ticking.’

  “Well maybe you should work on trying to force those time warps on purpose.”

  ‘Oh, come on. You wouldn’t tell someone to try farting on purpose—’

  “Stop.” Jessica laughed again and closed her eyes. “I just want two minutes. That’s it.”

  ‘Fine. Then we get to work.’

  Exactly. Work Jessica had never wanted. Now, though, she wondered what the hell she’d do with herself if she didn’t have this hulk of a building and the witching vault and that cursed fae downstairs to take up all her time.

  Downstairs in the lobby, Leandras breathed slowly and evenly, eyes closed as he rested in the armchair. Just as the vestrohím’s footsteps stopped at the top of the stairs, he felt the shift in the air when the Gateway awoke.

  The green lig
ht coming from beyond that immeasurably powerful portal—so close within his grasp and yet still under lock and key—was so bright, Leandras could see its otherworldly hue through his closed eyelids.

  And here he was, thinking of it as otherworldly. Not in the slightest.

  That was the light of home. His home. And he would do whatever it took to return after so many centuries of waiting in this world for the right moment. Because the vow he’d made on the other side of that Gateway was more powerful than anything Jessica Northwood could have thought to make him swear within her clever little binding. And more deadly.

  The door upstairs creaked slightly when it opened, and Jessica’s footsteps traveled across the ceiling of the lobby in front of him. That must be her room, then. Something heavy slid across the ground upstairs, and though he couldn’t make out the words, her muffled voice filled the silence around him.

  That one had just as much of a penchant for talking to herself as Tabitha. Perhaps the scryer really had known what she was doing when she’d sent Leandras away to distribute that rather cryptic ad for an apprentice to the staffing agencies. Then again, Tabitha had always known exactly what she was doing, even if none of it made sense.

  As he tried to discern even a single word of Jessica’s voice filtering through the slats of the ceiling, an altogether different sound caught his attention.

  It was a soft rattle at first but quickly grew into a loud, urgent thumping coming from the desk in front of him.

  The fae opened his eyes and stared at the desk, though the rolling office chair blocked his view. He waved the chair aside, his magic sputtering slightly before doing its job and sending the chair rolling by a mere three inches. Not precisely his intention, but he couldn’t depend on any of his magic to do what it was meant to do now, could he?

  The urgent thumping and rattling grew louder, and the center drawer in the desk trembled violently.

  With another slow, weak wave, Leandras gestured toward the drawer, but it didn’t budge. Only then did he see the magically welded brass lock—just a mottled lump of melted and cooled metal keeping everything in place.