Bound by Faerie: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Stolen Magic Book 1) (10 page)

"Shhhh." She clutched a pillow excitedly to her chest. "Dr. Dark-and-Broody is being all pensive and emotional. His eyes
sparkle
."

Why that required silence, I'd never know. Asking would have drawn her attention. It turned out not to matter, because just then, a commercial for dishwasher detergent shattered the atmosphere of the show, ruining my chance of getting in the bath unbothered. "I'm going to take a bath," I said, trying to head off her inevitable tirade about the character's behavior. "Enjoy your show."

Phoebe skipped through the commercials and hit pause. "Are you going to watch with me?" DVRs were both a blessing and a curse. I should have known the show wasn't live, it was after midnight.

"Why would I do that? That show is utterly ridiculous."

I edged toward the bathroom, but Phoebe bounced off the couch and landed in front of me.

"
Medical Heroes
is not ridiculous," she said with a pout. "You seemed to enjoy it plenty when you were sick last—what happened?" She pointed at the bruises blooming across my chest.

"I had a little disagreement with a dragon," I replied, feeling a wry grin tug at my mouth.

Phoebe gently probed the discolored skin, startling a gasp from me. It was worse than I thought. "Maybe it was a big disagreement," I admitted.

"Take your bath," said Phoebe, shooing me toward the bathroom. "When you're done I'll have brownies ready, and we can watch
Medical Heroes
."

I opened my mouth to protest and received a fierce scowl that stopped the words in my throat. "Fine."

Phoebe's scowl turned into a cheerful grin and she bounded past me to the kitchen. She sure knew how to work me. It was just as well. I'd tolerate the crappy show if it meant I got some of her magical brownies. And when I say magical, I mean it. Her earth magic was potent. My bruises would heal in a day instead of a week. Also, they tasted like a rainbow made a baby with chocolate.

I soaked in the tub until the water cooled and I was lured out by the smell of baking wizardry. "I hope you made a double batch," I said when I emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my body and another around my hair. My poor, misshapen, burnt hair. "Because I'm going to eat a whole batch by myself. These bruises are a bitch."

"I made a triple batch," said Phoebe, her grin turning up a notch. "I want to have leftovers and
Magical Heroes
always makes me crave junk food."

I slipped into some sweats and plopped on the couch. Phoebe handed me an enormous plate of brownies and sat down with one for herself.

"I'll start this episode over. It's right where we left off last month," she said. "Do you remember, or do you need a recap?"

"I remember," I said grudgingly. "I wanted to smack Dark-and-Broody because he should have realized that Slutty Nurse was only kissing him to make her ex jealous." Fine, I actually enjoyed the show, but it was mostly because it was fun to watch with Phoebe. Having her as a roommate wasn't all bad sometimes. I took a big bite of brownie and groaned.

Phoebe giggled. "The healing power of chocolate."

I slumped over and leaned my head on her shoulder. "Thank you
," I whispered, acknowledging that I would owe her a favor. She pretended not to hear.

The next morning my bruises felt several days old and presented with subdued earth tones, in contrast to the jeweled reds and purples I would have expected. Much better, but I probably wouldn't be showing off my chest at Smoke and Mirrors anytime soon. I snorted. Right. Like that would happen ever again. The nightclub part of the job was over. Now it was time to make that trouble worth it.

A good morning stretch, a few minutes to clean my teeth and wash my face, and I was ready to settle down with
Life of the Phantom Queen.
And nibble on another brownie. They even tasted good mingled with the mint of my toothpaste. Phoebe's brownies never failed.

The first few pages were a recap of things I already knew, but that was promising in itself. The book was on the right track. Finally, I was getting somewhere.

My phone chirped three times in quick succession. It was my boss, Hammond, asking where I was with the necklace. Confusion knitted my brow. I could have sworn I told him that it had been lost. My hand drifted up to my neck and I felt the cool touch of gold. No, that wasn't right. I hadn't gotten around to turning it in yet. I was busy with getting the book.

Be there in 30
,
I tapped out.

I dropped my phone on the couch and went back to my book. I had a few minutes before I had to go. My phone rang and I growled. "Yeah," I barked, and then winced. I couldn't be an asshole to my boss because he wanted me to do my job. "This is Sophie," I amended.

"What the hell are you doing, Morrigan?"

"I told you I'd be there in thirty minutes," I replied, my temper barely held in check.

"That was two hours ago," he said, his voice the deadly calm he only used when he was debating firing me. "Care to explain?"

My eyes went wide with shock. I almost pulled the phone away from my ear to check, but I knew he wouldn't be wrong about something like that. "Shit, sorry. I must have dozed off. I'll be right in."

"You better be." The call ended.

I hopped off the couch and brushed away the brownie crumbs. Phoebe would make me pay for that mess later, but I had to get going while I still had a job. Within a few minutes I was dressed and at the door. I smacked my forehead and clamped a hand to my chest, trying to get my racing pulse under control. "You're not late to work, you idiot," I chided myself. "It's your day off." That's what I got for sleeping on the couch. I always woke up disoriented after.

I flopped back down on the couch and plucked a brownie off the quickly dwindling mound.

My phone chirped, announcing a text message.

Art:
I don't know what game you're playing, but Hammond is about to have a stroke. You need to get that necklace down to MOD, now.

Me:
I'm on my way.

I rolled my eyes. "So dramatic."

I put the brownies in the kitchen, where I wouldn't be tempted. Another few pages, and
Life of the Phantom Queen
finally revealed something new. Apparently, The Morrigan's crow form varied in size from a regular old crow like me to the size of a bus. To be fair, I was
slightly
bigger than your average crow. As far as I knew, I could only manage the one size. Maybe I should try thinking bigger thoughts during the shift to see what I could do. Probably not something I should try in the apartment unless I felt like wearing the roof as a hat. That sort of thing would really put a dent in the security deposit. And possibly motivate Phoebe to commit murder.

Also in the section about shapeshifting, there was mention that The Morrigan had an in-between form. Her body had human skin
and
feathers. And she had wings. There was even a drawing. Feathers were placed somewhat randomly over her body, but symmetrically. It looked wicked, and it could solve my clothing problem. It might require modifications to my back sheath. That is, if I could ever imagine how to attempt such a thing. I folded down the corner of the page so I could find it for future reference.

Chirp

Art
:
In case you haven't noticed, you're still not at work with the necklace.

No sooner had I read the message than the phone rang. It was Art. I clicked answer. "Dude, what?" I said, not bothering with a greeting.

"Were you in some sort of horrible accident on your way to work? Because Hammond has been waiting on you for hours now. That's the only kind of excuse he'll accept."

I sighed. "No, my stomach hurts a
nd I'm moving slow. I'll be there in a few." My stomach curdled, though I didn't remember noticing the pain before I told him of it. Could too many of Phoebe's brownies mess me up? How many was too many? The plate in the kitchen was basically empty. If there was a line, I'd definitely crossed it.

There was silence on the line for a beat. "You know I only care because I don't want you to get fired, right?"

"I know, Art. I appreciate that. I'll be there. Don't worry."

"Okay, see you then. Bye."

"Bye."

I dropped the phone on the couch and picked up the book again. The details in the drawing of her in-between form were hard to make out. If I managed it, there was no saying I'd look exactly the same. Maybe I wouldn't have to wear any clothes if feathers were in the right places. I snorted. I could just imagine walking around Volarus like that. People were wary of my strange magic
now
when they could just smell I was something unusual. If they had to face me down—human skin and feathers and wings with a scowl on my face, Epic in one hand and Haiku in the other—well, I'd like to see them tell me I smell funny then. I'd like to see that very much.

I moved on to the next section. That one was mostly about the people who worshiped The Morrigan. Her fans had died off in most human communities, but there were still persistent rumors about clans that had been so faithful to her they had been given the right to dwell in Faerie. No surprise that every group were vicious, warlike people. The Morrigan wasn't exactly known for being the warm and fuzzy type.

"Why are you lying to Art and your boss?" Phoebe popped into existence on the other end of the couch. She held the last of the brownies from the plate in the kitchen. "Did they do something mean?"

"I'm not lying to them," I said, scowling at her. My mind raced to recall what she might have overheard. The only thing I was keeping from them was my death ball magic, which Phoebe didn't know about either. Or, she better not. "Why would you say that?"

"Um, because you just told them you were on the way to work but you're sitting here on your ass reading that book? How did you manage the lie, anyway? Have you always been able to?"

"Oh." I ignored the rest of what she said, because it was ridiculous, and instead remembered what was important. "I am on my way to work." I meant it, of course. I couldn't lie. But when I leaned forward, grunting with the effort of attempting to stand, nothing happened. "Except I can't seem to get off the couch."

"Well, it might help if you took your hand off that necklace," said Phoebe.

"What?" Pain bloomed in my right palm. The ridges of the gem settings dug into my skin so deep they were practically rooted. I concentrated as hard as I could, and slowly, with a pain that convinced me I was breaking my own fingers, I unclenched my fist. The necklace dropped to my chest, radiating cold. "What the hell is happening?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes. "I warned you about that thing."

I would have glared at Phoebe if my face wasn't locked in wide-eyed panic. Not being able to move my body the way I wanted was tripping all of my claustrophobia buttons. My breath came in ragged gasps. "Not helping," I choked out.

Phoebe blinked out and reappeared on the coffee table in front of me. "Take deep breaths," she said in a soothing voice. "Lures stop you from acting against them. Most of the time the magic is subtle enough you never notice. It must be strong to control you when you're aware."

"Still not helping," I said through clenched teeth. This necklace, or lure, or whatever it was, needed to get the hell off of me. The more time I spent thinking about that the harder it became to move. "I can't move my hands. Take it off me."

"No," she said, her mouth set in a firm line.

"What the hell?" My shoulders sagged. "Is this whole thing another one of your elaborate pranks?"

For a moment she looked wounded, then Phoebe lunged at me, her hands grabbing for my throat. My hand struck of its own volition, crushing into her nose. She landed in a crumpled heap on the couch. "Shit on toast! Phoebe, are you all right?" I hadn't wanted to hurt her. "I didn't mean to hit you."
No, no, no
. Maybe my death light kept popping up because I really was some kind of monster. My magic wasn't the problem. Just me. "I'm so sorry."

Phoebe rolled over with a groan. "That'll cause a knot in the old trunk." She rubbed her nose, but there wasn't any outward sign of injury. "That necklace has some serious mojo. If I had realized, I wouldn't have let you keep it on when you first got home."

My hand was still curled in a fist and it took every ounce of my will not to punch Phoebe. "You should probably back away. My hand is not under my control." I shuddered to think what would happen if the necklace made me do magic involuntarily. It
was
the necklace. Not me.
The necklace
hit Phoebe. The ball of death light was the problem.
Not me. Not me.
"You should probably hide out in your tree until I can figure out a way to beat this thing."

Phoebe stood and planted her hands on her hips. "I am not a coward. I've survived forest fires, plagues of insects, and logging companies. I will not bow to a piece of jewelry! It will take more than a hit to the nose to make me flee in terror." A loud knock shook the front door, causing Phoebe to startle. Her wood grain cheeks burnished a deeper red. "Not fleeing," she repeated.

"Also not answering the door," I said with a smirk. "I would get it, but—never mind. I seem to be able to move again. Answering the door must be benign as far as the enchantment on the necklace is concerned."